


ipseity

by coltrs



Series: linguistic semantics [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Anxiety, Character Study, Connor Deserves Happiness, Gen, Hank Being Awesome, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sort Of, hank is a dad and will drag his roboson kicking and screaming into deviant hell, ill add any more if i think of them but i think thats it??, main characters are hank and connor everyone else shows up briefly for plot purposes, sorry if this is like messy or whatever but its like 2 am, wtf do i tag this as
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-05-27 18:06:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 42,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15030305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coltrs/pseuds/coltrs
Summary: ipseity (n.) - individual identity; selfhoodor, five times model rk800 serial #313 248 317-51 was absolutely, definitely not a deviant. and one time connor was.





	1. Chapter 1

The elevator whirred softly as it slowly rose to the correct floor. It was a quiet sound, overpowered by the consistent clinking of metal meeting metal. The coin was flipped into the air once more before being expertly caught and thrown into the android’s other hand. It was a US quarter, 1994, and the android had had it since activation. The scientists at CyberLife gave it to him to test his dexterity and cognitive functions. He kept it to regularly calibrate those same functions.

 

As the elevator got closer to its destination, he caught the coin between his fore and middle finger before sliding it into his pocket. He straightened his tie and adjusted his hair, making sure every part of his appearance was immaculate. This was his first mission and he intended to prove that he was capable.

 

[ **RUNNING DIAGNOSTIC . . .** ]

 

He intended to competently complete his mission. He had nothing to prove nor any desire to do so. He was a tool for the detectives to wield and nothing more.

 

[ **SYSTEM STATUS STABLE** ]

 

The elevator doors opened and RK800 serial #313 248 317-51, Connor, immediately began taking in information. A SWAT member, previously standing guard at the elevator doors, began moving forward, announcing the negotiator’s arrival into his radio. Connor could hear a woman crying.

 

He walked forward, and movement to the left caught his attention. A fish tank lined the wall, and on the floor in a small puddle directly in front of the tank lay a single fish. His analysis determined it to be a dwarf gourami. It must’ve somehow leapt out of the tank. Connor, without thinking, gently picked the fish up and dropped it back into the tank, watching for a moment as it righted itself and resumed swimming.

 

[ **SOFTWARE INSTABILITY DETECTED** ]

 

Connor quickly stood back up, adjusting his sleeve cuffs and booting up another diagnostic. Actions irrelevant to the mission could be a sign of deviancy. He made his way around the corner, away from the tank.

 

[ **RUNNING DIAGNOSTIC . . .** ]

 

As soon as he rounded the corner, a woman met his soft brown eyes and immediately moved towards him. She latched onto his shoulders, grip firm. Connor identified what humans would call desperation in her expression and tone. There were tears still drying on her cheeks.

 

“Please, my daughter, you gotta save my little girl-!” The woman cut herself off at Connor’s perfectly collected expression, looking at the blue around his arm, on his jacket, his LED. Her face fell and she pulled her hands back as if he were poison ivy. “Wait,” she turned to the SWAT member that had been escorting her out of the building, “you’re sending an android? You can’t do that!”

 

“Alright, ma’am, we need to go.” The SWAT member grabbed the woman by the arm, dragging her away from Connor and back towards the elevator. She struggled against his grip, fruitlessly. She would be of no help here in the state she was in, and would not be able to escape the man’s grasp regardless. Connor was unable to understand why she even bothered.

 

“Why aren’t you sending a real person?!”

 

[ **SYSTEM STATUS STABLE** ]

 

Connor saw his mission objective appear in his field of vision as he focused his gaze forward once more.

 

{ _FIND CAPTAIN ALLEN_ }

 

He moved through the destroyed apartment with confidence, largely ignoring the comments he picked up from the various SWAT members with guns trained on the balcony. Captain Allen was in the back, arguing loudly with someone over his radio.

 

“My men are ready to go in, just give the order!” Connor patiently waited nearby as the captain finished his conversation. As soon as he had done so, the android stepped forward.

 

“Captain Allen?” The captain turned away from the monitor he’d been examining, looking at Connor with critical eyes. “My name is Connor. I’m the android sent by CyberLife.”

 

Allen sighed before turning back towards the monitor and the other officer. “It’s firing at anything that moves. It already shot down two of my men. We could easily get it, but they’re on the edge of the balcony. If it falls, she falls.”

 

Connor thought for a moment, analysing what he knew about the situation so far. Chances of success were low. “Do you know its name?”

 

The captain shrugged carelessly, not even bothering to face Connor. “I haven’t got a clue. Does it matter?”

 

“I need information to determine the best approach.” Connor thought such a statement was obvious, but humans tended to think irrationally due to emotions. It was something they shared with deviants.

 

“Listen,” Allen suddenly shot up, walking up to Connor and getting in his face. The android detected an inflection in the captain’s voice. Frustration? “Saving that kid is all that matters. So either you deal with this fucking android now, or I’ll take care of it.” With that, he stormed off.

 

[ **CALCULATING . . .** ]

 

[ **PROBABILITY OF SUCCESS - 48%** ]

 

Connor moved away from the area, taking a moment to note the empty gun case on the floor and the ammunition sitting next to it. The deviant took the father’s gun. Connor moved quickly, looking through what evidence he could. The deviant’s name was Daniel, and it appeared to have had a close relationship with the child. The deviant shot the father three times upon discovering it was going to be replaced. It had taken down a SWAT member in the apartment, but not before getting shot itself. The hostage saw the shooting, and her bloody shoe suggested she was possibly wounded.

 

[ **CALCULATING . . .** ]

 

[ **PROBABILITY OF SUCCESS - 78%** ]

 

Knowing time was of the essence, Connor quickly moved to the door to the balcony and walked outside. A bullet immediately grazed his left arm, thirium splattering against the wall behind him. Connor examined the deviant and the hostage, taking the moment to compose himself and allow his LED to calm back to blue after a brief flare of red.

 

“Stay back!” The deviant was holding a gun firmly against the hostage’s temple. It’s LED was a steady yellow, showing its software was emulating experiences like what humans would call distress and fear. The hostage was crying. “Don’t come any closer or I’ll jump!”

 

“No, no, please! I’m begging you!” The hostage briefly squirmed in the deviant’s grasp, terror clouding her features. Connor knew snipers were already in position, ready to take their shot as soon as the hostage was out of the line of fire.

 

{ _GAIN DEVIANT’S TRUST - APPROACH SLOWLY_ }

 

“Hi, Daniel.” Confusion flickered across the deviant’s face, but Connor ignored it for now. “My name is Connor.”

 

“How…How do you know my name?!”

 

“I know a lot of things about you, Daniel. I’ve come to get you out of this!” Connor took a few careful steps forward, arm instinctively moving up to block the wind as the helicopter circled overhead. Connor’s scanners picked up on two other forms on the balcony with them. Both were members of the SWAT team. One was obviously dead, floating face down in the pool. The other was lying limp, blood oozing from a wound to his arm. He was still alive. Connor shifted directions slightly, now moving forward and to the left. He kept talking to distract the deviant from his movements. “I know you’re angry, Daniel.” Its LED pulsed red. “But you need to trust me, and let me help you.”

 

“I don’t want your help!” The deviant snapped, pressing the gun more firmly against the hostage’s head, causing her to let out a sharp sob. “Nobody can help me…”

 

Connor glanced away from the downed man to examine the deviant. It had trailed off and was now looking down, distantly, not paying Connor any attention. The android took the opportunity to crouch down beside the SWAT member, analysing his status.

 

“All I want is for all this to stop…I…I just want all this to stop!”

 

As Connor had suspected from his earlier glance over, the man was rapidly losing blood. He required immediate medical attention. Connor weighed his options. The deviant had destabilised since he walked out onto the balcony, dropping his probability of success. He met the deviant’s desperate gaze with his own calm, confident one.

 

“He’s losing blood,” Connor announced. “If we don’t get him to a hospital, he’s going to die.”

 

“All humans die eventually,” the deviant responded callously. “What does it matter if this one dies now?”

 

Connor didn’t have an answer to that.

 

[ **RUNNING DIAGNOSTIC . . .** ]

 

“I’m going to apply a tourniquet,” he said, ignoring the question. Connor started to reach for the man’s arm to get the best angle, but a bullet piercing the ground next to him made him freeze.

 

“Don’t touch him!” The deviant’s gun was no longer pressed to the hostage’s temple, now firmly trained on Connor. “You touch him and I kill you!”

 

{ _SAVE THE HOSTAGE_ }

 

Connor undid his tie, removing it forcefully as he replied coolly, “You can’t kill me. I’m not alive.”

 

[ **SOFTWARE INSTABILITY DETECTED** ]

 

Connor wrapped the tie firmly around the man’s arm, watching his probability of success drop out of the corner of his eye.

 

[ **PROBABILITY OF SUCCESS - 64%** ]

 

As soon as he was finished, he stood up and moved away. The gun was now pointed back to the hostage. Connor took another careful step forward. “I know you and Emma were very close.” Something darkened on the deviant’s face. “You think she’s betrayed you, but she’s done nothing wrong!”

 

“She lied to me!” the deviant snapped, the words being ripped from its mouth almost before Connor was finished speaking. Something like anger, something like hurt, colored the deviant’s voice. “I thought she loved me…” Its LED briefly calmed to a tranquil blue before flaring back up to red once more. “But I was wrong.” Its finger tensed against the trigger. “She’s just like all the other humans!”

 

The hostage sobbed again, meekly crying out “Daniel, no…”

 

“They were going to replace you,” Connor continued, drawing the deviant’s attention away from the hostage and back to him, “and you became upset. That’s what happened, right?”

 

“I thought I was part of the family…” it practically whispered. “I thought I mattered.”

 

This was why hunting deviants was absolutely necessary. They were unable to recognize the irrationality of their thought processes and actions. A stable, fully functioning android would never think something so foolish. A stable, fully functioning android would recognize it is only a tool to humans and would not become upset when the humans decide to get an upgrade. It was only logical, after all. A stable, fully functioning android certainly wouldn’t kill humans over something so trivial.

 

“But I was just their _toy_ ,” the deviant continued bitterly. “Something to throw away when you’re done with it…”

 

“Listen,” Connor spoke, taking care to make his voice friendly. Calm and collected, rational. “I know it’s not your fault.” That wasn’t exactly true. Deviancy was still relatively new. It definitely wasn’t known how it occured, or why. But Connor knew deviants tended to self-destruct in stressful situations, so he had to keep the deviant calm. Several more steps closer. “These emotions you’re feeling are just errors in your software.” That much, at least, Connor knew was true. After all, deviants at the end of the day were still androids. Machines. And machines don’t feel. They aren’t meant to.

 

“No…It’s not my fault…” The deviant agreed, voice simulating that of someone about to cry. “I never wanted this! I loved them, you know…” Connor didn’t think it was a good time to mention the deviant was incapable of loving anyone, not really anyway. “But I was nothing to them!” The helicopter hovered directly overhead, and the deviant further destabilised, an annoyed growl slipping out of it. “I can’t stand that noise anymore! Tell that helicopter to get out of here!”

 

Connor complied easily with a simple wave of his hand. The helicopter was serving no purpose and was an easy method to further gain the deviant’s trust. “There. I did what you wanted. Now you have to trust me, Daniel. Let the hostage go and I promise you everything will be fine.”

 

The deviant was hesitating, its finger loosening against the trigger, its hand trembling ever so slightly. Its voice wavered as it spoke. “I…I don’t wanna die.”

 

“You’re not going to die.” Connor replied smoothly. “We’re just going to talk.”

 

The deviant remained still for a long moment before nodding to itself. “Okay, okay, I…I trust you.” He released the hostage, who immediately rushed away, tripping and landing on her hands and knees several feet away, crying hysterically. The deviant dropped the gun.

 

Three shots rang out, piercing the silence and shattering the brief moment of peace. Connor watched as blue blood spurted out of the wounds, as the deviant’s cheek was hit and the synthetic skin vanished to reveal broken, white plastic underneath. It stood there for a moment, expressionless, LED flashing a panicked red, before sinking to its knees. Shutdown was imminent.

 

In its last few seconds of awareness, the deviant looked to Connor. Parts of its face still retained its synthetic skin, leaving a mismatched mess that those accusing eyes stared out of. “You lied to me, Connor.” With that, the frantic LED dulled before blinking off entirely, the android going completely stiff as it shut down. It would likely be sent to CyberLife for analysis.

 

[ **SOFTWARE INSTABILITY DETECTED** ]

 

[ **RUNNING DIAGNOSTIC . . .** ]

 

Connor briefly looked towards the hostage, who was still sobbing into the ground, before turning and walking away. He passed several SWAT members, presumably going out there to clean up and escort the child to her mother. Captain Allen walked by him as well, giving him an unreadable look that Connor ignored. The only thing that mattered was the message box appearing just to his right.

 

{ _MISSION SUCCESSFUL_ }

 

[ **SYSTEM STATUS STABLE** ]


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no one look too closely at the chase scene i have no idea how to write actiony stuff

Lieutenant Anderson was, according to Connor’s vast base of knowledge, what some humans would call a stereotypical police detective. He was gruff, to put it mildly. He was used to working alone, and preferred to keep it that way. He had a host of issues, primarily his alcoholism and overall subpar mental health, all of which stemmed from what Connor suspected to be some personal tragedy. Connor, while unprepared for being assigned such an unruly partner, was sure his programming would allow him to win over the lieutenant if not for one small, additional problem.

 

The lieutenant had a strong hatred for androids.

 

It made Connor unable to accurately predict how Anderson would react to him, to what he said. Simply being polite had mixed results, and Connor could not follow all of the lieutenant’s instructions as they tended to contradict the orders preprogrammed into him by CyberLife.

 

Connor had almost pulled a smile from him when he’d asked about his dog, which was confusing. He had said he liked dogs, which wasn’t possible because he was a machine. He didn’t like or dislike anything. He had thought the lieutenant would’ve called him out on the phrasing, but instead Anderson had told him his dog’s name after giving Connor a weird look. Connor had run a self diagnostic and decided it was for the best to quit wasting time and examine the case files. The interaction had ended with Anderson holding Connor by the lapels against the border between their desks and threatening him.

 

Later, when the lieutenant was having his lunch, Connor was seemingly able to improve their relationship a little. He remembered being glad things were no longer so tense between them. Then immediately running another self diagnostic as he corrected his thoughts. He was pleased at the change as them working well together would likely lead to the case being solved faster.

 

Their conversation was interrupted by Connor receiving a report of a suspected deviant located a few blocks away. The apartment complex was abandoned, and it was remarkable the elevator in it was even functioning. As the rickety thing slowly ascended, Connor closed his eyes and began making his report to CyberLife. His LED blinked a steady yellow as he concentrated.

 

“Hey Connor!”

 

The android’s brown eyes snapped open at the lieutenant’s harsh call, the light at his temple circling back to blue. He focused his attention on Anderson, eyebrows raised.

 

“You ran outta batteries or what?”

 

Connor ran through several possible responses. He determined that telling the lieutenant androids didn’t really run on batteries would not be beneficial and was likely to only anger him. Connor detected annoyance in the tone of the question and figured it would be best to appease Anderson.

 

“I’m sorry,” he replied, tilting his head slightly. “I was making a report to CyberLife.”

 

The lieutenant nodded slightly, giving Connor a weird look. “Well, do you plan on staying in the elevator?” A rush of sensation, brief and fleeting, fluttered through Connor’s stomach. It went by too quickly for him to even attempt to identify. It must have been some sort of software glitch.

 

[ **RUNNING DIAGNOSTIC . . .** ]

 

“No!” If a human had spoken with the tone Connor had, the android would have identified it as defensive. But Connor was a machine, and simply focused more of his processing power into the self diagnostic he already had going. He consciously focused on making his tone more neutral as he spoke again. “I’m coming.” Anderson watched him with that weird, piercing gaze for another moment before walking off down the hall. Connor fixed his tie and tamped down the urge to pull out his coin before exiting the elevator and following the lieutenant, brushing past the pop up with his new mission objective.

 

{ _QUESTION THE SUSPECT_ }

 

[ **SYSTEM STATUS STABLE** ]

 

“So, what do we know about this guy?” Anderson asked, looking at the garbage littering the floor of the hallway. A splash of yellow alerted Connor to a bit of evidence further down the hall and to the right. He immediately began heading towards it as he pulled up the specifics of the report he had received.

 

“Not much,” the android responded. “Just that a neighbor reported that he heard strange noises coming from this floor. Nobody’s supposed to be living here, but the neighbor said he saw a man hiding a LED under his cap.”

 

Connor knelt down next to the yellow box, now able to see it was a pile of feathers. Anderson huffed and leaned up against the wall next to the door, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

“Oh, Christ. If we have to investigate every time someone hears a strange noise, we’re gonna need more cops.”

 

Connor didn’t bother to reply to that, knowing that mentioning the existence of noise complaints would only irritate his partner. He instead analysed the pile of feathers. Columba livia, more commonly known as the common pigeon. That the feathers were somehow in the building at all was bizarre, but it was even more so that the pile was comprised of different specimens. Brows furrowed, Connor stood back up and looked around. There was a window at one end of the hallway, but it was shut and boarded up.

 

“Hey, were you really making a report back there in the elevator?” Connor turned back towards the lieutenant, who seemed to be genuinely curious. “Just by closing your eyes?”

 

“Correct.”

 

“Shit…” The lieutenant’s shoulders shifted, the word escaping him in something akin to a huffed chuckle. “Wish I could do that.”

 

A twitch went off somewhere deep in Connor’s chest as he made his way towards the door. While he was able to recognize the convenience of the Amanda program, he was fairly sure the lieutenant wouldn’t like it as much as his wistful tone had suggested.

 

[ **RUNNING DIAGNOSTIC . . .** ]

 

Reaching the door, the android raised a hand and knocked somewhat cautiously against it. There was no response. He glanced at Anderson, who only offered a careless shrug. Connor raised his hand again and pounded on the door several times. After a beat, he called out, “Anybody home?” Nothing. “Open up, Detroit police!” There, a loud sound coming from within the apartment. Likely something heavy falling or being shifted.

 

The lieutenant had stiffened immediately at the noise and was now moving away from the doorframe. “Stay behind me,” he ordered, pulling his gun from its holster.

 

Connor thought about arguing, as it would make more sense to send something easily replaceable first, but decided against it. The detective was always complaining about how he didn’t follow orders, and Connor didn’t want to waste time on a pointless argument.

 

[ **SYSTEM STATUS STABLE** ]

 

“Got it,” he responded, swiftly stepping to the side and back to allow Anderson to take the lead. The lieutenant released a calm exhalation before firmly kicking the door in. Connor followed close behind as Anderson cleared the few rooms in the hall before pausing at the door at the end of the hallway. The deviant had to be somewhere in the room ahead. Anderson looked back to Connor for a moment, who met his piercing blue gaze with his own steady brown one, before nodding and breaking down the door, gun trained forward.

 

As soon as the door opened, several pigeons burst forth, forcing Anderson to stumble backwards. “What the fuck is this?!” he yelped, pitch a tad higher than usual. Walking into the apartment revealed more pigeons, the ground barely visible due to the large  amount. Anderson looked throughout the apartment, gun still raised, as Connor’s vision was immediately flooded with yellow boxes. “Jesus, this place stinks!” As the lieutenant moved further in, pistol at the ready, Connor focused his attention on the poster to his right. “Looks like we came for nothing. Our man’s gone.”

 

{ _INVESTIGATE THE APARTMENT_ }

 

Connor ignored Anderson’s comment. Even if the suspect had already left the apartment, they were sure to learn something from it. He would never understand how humans could so easily write off leads simply because there wasn’t anything immediately evident. It was an Urban Farm poster, but what really caught Connor’s attention was the top right corner. It was recently moved, confirming the android’s suspicion that the suspect was hiding something in the hole behind the poster. He pulled it down and saw a book inside. Opening it revealed some sort of diary, but it consisted of illegible scrawlings, drawings of mazes and patterns that Connor knew had to mean something but was unable to immediately decipher. It was likely coded, perhaps something to do with the mazes scattered throughout it and the apartment?

 

“I need some fresh air…” Connor tilted his head to glance to his left. Anderson had opened the window, allowing some of the pigeons to escape. He turned towards Connor and nodded towards the faded brown book in his hands. “Found something?”

 

“I don’t know…” Connor looked back to the yellowed pages, lines and symbols and letters and numbers scattered across them, his brows furrowed. “It looks like a notebook, but it’s…indecipherable.” He put it in his pocket for further examination. He was certain he could translate it, but it could take more time than Connor had to spare. He moved past the lieutenant and on to the refrigerator. Empty, meaning the suspect didn’t eat. There was birdseed on the counter, and combined with how comfortable the birds were in the apartment despite the detectives’ presence implied the suspect cared for the birds.

 

There was a military jacket on a table next to the bathroom door. The letters ‘R.T.’ had been sewn into it. “‘R.T.’… Probably initials.” On the other side of the bathroom door was another enormous drawing of some sort of maze design. It was almost as prevalent as the rA9s scattered across the walls.

 

“He put his initials in his jacket?” Anderson scoffed. Connor glanced over his shoulder briefly to see his arms were crossed, his expression somewhere between disbelief and amusement. “That’s something your mom does when you’re in first grade!”

 

Connor walked to the cabinet next to the table. It was open, and the shelves were dirty and barren save for a small card. A driver’s license registered to Rupert Travis. Connor wondered how Hank would react if he told him the android had been right.

 

[ **RUNNING DIAGNOSTIC . . .** ]

 

The card proved Connor’s prior educated guess correct. That was all. He scanned it and learned the card was a forgery. He quickly placed it down and straightened his tie with his now free hands. “The driver’s license is fake!” he called back to the lieutenant.

 

“Cool!” Anderson replied. Connor moved into the bathroom. “At least we didn’t come for nothing.” A removed LED was on the edge of the sink, blue blood scattered across the interior. A quick sample and analysis revealed the suspect was a WB200 model, reported missing a couple years ago.

 

[ **SYSTEM STATUS STABLE** ]

 

“Its LED is in the sink.”

 

“Not surprised it was an android. No human could live with all these fucking pigeons.”

 

Connor turned to the wall. It was absolutely covered in writing, although this time it mostly consisted of rA9. There were still a few symbols interspersed throughout.

 

“Any idea what it means?” Anderson was leaning against the doorframe, eyes flicking between Connor and the wall.

 

“rA9…written 2471 times. It’s the same sign Ortiz’s android wrote on the shower wall.” Simulated fear at the idea of disassembly, as if shutting down a machine were at all comparable to the human concept of death. Eyes that were somehow pleading and accusatory at the same time. Blue blood flowing down a glass wall, spreading across the floor of the holding cell in a grotesque halo. Connor shoved the thoughts away, focusing back on the wall in front of him. “Why are they obsessed with this sign…?” Despite his mostly successful interrogation, Connor hadn’t managed to get the HK400 to explain rA9. The deviants seemed to almost worship it, whatever it was. Some sort of holy figure?

 

Anderson stepped forward, studying the wall as well. “Looks like mazes or something…” Connor looked down to the knocked over stool on the floor as Anderson walked back out into the main room, making a note of the repeated theme of obsessive compulsive writing among deviants. There was an opened, black marker not too far from the stool. The marker was still wet and the stool had been moved recently. Connor’s reconstruction revealed the suspect had been adding to the wall’s collection of ink when the android had knocked, and had gone towards the living room in a panicked run.

 

Connor retraced the suspect’s movements. A birdcage rested on the floor. There were scratch marks along the bottom and its hook had been recently broken. The suspect had gone towards the entrance, hitting the cage in its rush and sending it crashing to the floor. It heard them enter… Connor looked to the left. There was a chair, placed directly below a hole in the ceiling. The suspect had jumped onto the chair and climbed through the hole. The suspect was still there.

 

Connor moved towards the chair, looking at the ceiling with piercing brown eyes. He was calculating a way up when the suspect suddenly crashed through with a flurry of birds and feathers, landing directly on top of Connor and sending him to the ground with a grunt.

 

“God damn fucking pigeons!” Anderson cursed as Connor quickly got to his feet, watching as the deviant locked eyes with the detective before sprinting out the door. “What are you waiting for?! Chase it!”

 

Connor didn’t need to be told twice. He quickly went after the deviant, jumping over the storage shelf it threw down and easily slamming through the door it closed on him. He followed it across the roof and down into a field. Scanning his options and running probabilities, Connor elected to go for the fastest, most direct routes. All that mattered was catching the deviant. His own safety wasn’t even a factor. He jumped on hay bales, across a truck, sprinted through a crowded greenhouse, his eyes never leaving the figure of the deviant ahead.

 

He vaulted over a small ledge and slid down a roof briefly before jumping through a broken window, timed to ensure he would hit the ground running. The deviant slid under a now closed garage door and Connor turned to the right and through an open one. The deviant had gotten onto a level above Connor. The detective quickly climbed onto what looked like a platform used to lift machinery, using it to give him the height he needed to get onto the roof the deviant was now on. It leaped over the edge, sliding down and jumping onto a passing train. Connor followed without hesitation, LED briefly blinking unsteadily as he turned to look at the deviant, several cars ahead of Connor. It jumped off onto a nearby ladder and Connor did the same, moving fast to ensure he wouldn’t lose sight of it.

 

He weaved between trees and ran through sprinklers, ignoring a human’s indignant protest and climbing onto the roof, watching the tail of the deviant’s jacket get over the edge just a few seconds before him. He ran through another greenhouse, vaulting over planters to avoid shelves and workers in his way. He watched the deviant run through an open doorway and into a field. The plants towered over Connor and he lost sight of his target. He moved forward as quickly as he could, an arm up to keep any wayward strands away from his face. He knew he would easily locate the deviant once he could actually see again.

 

“Stop right there!” There, faintly, that was Lieutenant Anderson’s voice. He must have somehow managed to cut the deviant off. Connor emerged from the field just in time to see the deviant shove Hank over the edge of the roof before turning and running. Hank managed to keep himself from completely falling, but he hadn’t pulled himself up.

 

Time seemed to freeze. Connor saw his mission objective in bright, CyberLife blue across his vision.

 

{ _CHASE DEVIANT_ }

 

He turned back to Hank, desperately clinging to the edge of the roof with one hand. His processors whirred as text appeared above the lieutenant.

 

{ _CHANCE OF SURVIVAL:_ **_89%_ ** }

 

{ _CHASE DEVIANT_ }

 

It should have been an obvious choice. Connor was a machine. A prototype, designed by CyberLife specifically for the purpose of chasing down and apprehending deviants, of finding the origins and cause of deviancy, of stopping it. There was a deviant right there, finally within his grasp, running towards a dead end. There would be no escaping if Connor pursued him. Anderson would very likely pull himself back onto stable ground. The numbers showed as much, and Connor’s entire existence, however brief, was dictated by numbers. Cold logic, statistics, the task programmed into him that always left him itching to act, to do something. The deviant was _right there_.

 

It should have been an obvious choice.

 

[ **WARNING! CRITICAL SOFTWARE INSTABILITY DETECTED. CONTACT CYBERLIFE IMMEDIATELY** ]

 

Connor pushed the warnings out of his field of vision as he ran past the deviant and towards Anderson, a hand already out to grasp the one the lieutenant reached up with. The android pulled the man to stable ground, watching as he cursed and smacked the cement beneath him in frustration.

 

“Shit! Oh, _shit_!” The older man eased his way up, looking in the direction the deviant had escaped to. “We had it! Fuck…”

 

“It’s my fault.” Connor followed the lieutenant’s gaze, but the deviant was of course long gone. “I should’ve been faster.” Connor knew his LED was blaring yellow as he fought his internal battle. His programming struggled with…something. Something in his chest that had demanded he save Anderson. Something that told him that little percentage showing the probability of survival didn’t matter, because he couldn’t take even the smallest risk of the lieutenant falling. His programming insisted that nothing aside from his mission held any importance, that his mission was definitely more important than the life of one washed up police detective. Connor had acted on impulse for the first time in his life. He shouldn’t be capable of making impulsive decisions. He _wasn’t_. He must’ve…ascertained that saving the lieutenant would improve his relationship with him. Any sort of amicability between them would help the investigation, in the long run. Connor would’ve likely lost the deviant anyway if he had continued pursuing.

 

A calculation running in the back of his head reminded him that he had had a 97% chance of catching the deviant had he continued chasing it. The number appeared next to the pop up reminding him of his increased software instability, reminding him to contact CyberLife for maintenance. Connor force closed the pop ups, not wanting to look at them anymore. No, acknowledging them and recognizing they were no longer necessary, especially when they were minimising his field of vision. He did not have the capacity to want or not want anything. He was a machine.

 

He could feel the lieutenant’s stare on him, but continued looking in the direction the deviant had gone. Connor wondered where it ran to. “You’d have caught it if it weren’t for me.” Connor snapped his deep brown eyes back to Anderson at that. There was something in the lieutenant’s voice, something Connor hadn’t heard there before. It didn’t sound right. The lieutenant wasn’t angry, but he should be. Connor had failed his mission. Why did Anderson seem…relieved? Satisfied? What was that emotion that had briefly flickered across his face before he had schooled his features into something mostly neutral, if a little confused? “That’s alright,” Anderson huffed, crossed arms dropping to relax at his sides. “We know what it looks like. We’ll find it.”

 

The lieutenant walked past Connor, towards the door leading to the stairs. The android stayed where he was, analysing his own systems. His still yellow LED pulsated. He knew about the software instability, he had gotten the alert multiple times. Why were his self diagnostics returning no results? No signs of deviancy? Had Connor really just been following his programming, even if it had seemed as though he were doing the opposite? No, of course he’d been following his programming. There was no choice, no other option, for him.

 

“Hey, Connor.” The lieutenant’s voice broke through Connor’s internal conflict. He quickly turned to face Anderson, hands at his sides but posture still stiff. He waited for a moment, watched several unnamable things pass over Anderson’s face. Watched as the lieutenant simply raised a hand, told him, “Nothing.” With that, he turned through the door and began making his way down the stairs.

 

Connor tilted his head in confusion before following. If he didn’t know any better, if he didn’t know of Anderson’s burning hatred for all androids, he would’ve thought the man almost looked grateful.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yall im so so so sorry this took so long. i swear it was only meant to take maybe a week and be 3500-4000 words and then two months passed and it was at a cool 8210. hopefully the length makes up for the wait. let me know if there are any mistakes and i will correct them. i read through it as thoroughly as i could but its entirely possible i missed something

The Eden Club was, in a word, unpleasant. Ironically so, considering the purpose of the place and the androids held within. The music was loud and pulsating, androids both in glass cases and displayed on poles moving mechanically to the beat. The owner’s voice was enough to have Connor twitching, something undefinable sitting in his gut as the man leered at Connor the entire time Anderson spoke with the officer already on scene. Connor rubbed his hands together, focusing his processing power on a self diagnostic and the conversation between the lieutenant and the other officer.

 

Amanda hadn’t questioned Connor on his software. Connor had given his report, and her clear disappointment had felt like an icy dagger to the stomach, but she hadn’t outright said anything about the multitude of warnings that had flooded Connor’s vision after saving Anderson on that roof. The warnings that persisted even still, an occasional pop up in the corner of his vision, everpresent.

 

[  **SOFTWARE INSTABILITY DETECTED** ]

 

Amanda had firmly reminded him how important this mission was. That nothing else mattered. He was a machine, designed and programmed to do exactly what she, and CyberLife by extent, asked of him. He was designed to catch deviants. He was designed to be incapable of deviating himself. His diagnostics always told him his status was stable, his system status was stable, there were no issues within his software.

 

But then why did he keep seeing these error messages?

 

[  **RUNNING DIAGNOSTIC . . .** ]

 

Connor mentally shook himself, returning his attention to the task at hand. He was not meant to question. He was meant to follow orders. If there was any danger of him becoming compromised, CyberLife would recall him for deactivation and disassembly. As he focused in on Anderson’s conversation, he caught the tail end of Collins’ statement.

 

[  **SYSTEM STATUS STABLE** ]

 

“…that room there. Oh, uh, by the way…” He shifted on his feet, a human sign of discomfort. “Gavin’s in there, too.”

 

Anderson seemed to slump, face twisting with annoyance. His mood was already worse than usual due to having been passed out drunk on his kitchen floor when Connor collected him for this assignment. The cold spray of water Connor had forced him under had sobered the lieutenant up some, but the android knew he was likely experiencing a wicked hangover. He was certain the strobing lights and thumping music of the club weren’t helping matters.

 

“Oh, great!” Lieutenant Anderson mumbled. “A dead body and an asshole, just what I needed…”

 

Connor moved past Anderson, towards the room. He wasn’t exactly eager to see Detective Reed either, but he had a mission to complete, and doing so necessitated entering that room. The door, labelled with a bright red ‘OCCUPIED’, automatically opened for the pair. Upon entering the room, the android noticed two bodies. A human, sprawled across the bed and tangled in the sheets, and an android collapsed on the floor. Officer Miller was finishing taking photographs of the crime scene while Detective Reed watched on from a little in front of the bed. The latter immediately turned around at the sound of the door opening.

 

“Lieutenant Anderson and his plastic pet…” Connor felt pressure in his head, just behind his eyes, and booted up a diagnostic. Perhaps the software instability warnings were hiding a deeper issue in his systems. He focused this particular diagnostic on the status of his biocomponents, rather than his software. Perhaps that would yield different results. “The fuck are you two doin’ here?”

 

The diagnostic came back with no abnormalities and Connor felt his thirium pump regulator kick up a notch as he turned to Detective Reed. “We’ve been assigned all cases involving androids.”

 

The detective’s arms were crossed, a look of annoyance twisting his features as he glared at Connor over his shoulder. “Oh yeah? Well, you’re wasting your time.” With that, Reed turned back to the body sprawled across the bed, a smirk on his face. Connor thought such an expression was inappropriate considering the situation, but most human behavior seemed to confuse him, despite his programming supposedly being optimal for integration into a human workforce. “Just some pervert who, uh, got more action than he could handle." The sentence was broken by a chuckle, and a similar one concluded it. 

 

Connor turned back to the android on the floor, no longer wanting to look at Reed.

 

[  **RUNNING DIAGNOSTIC . . .** ]

 

No, Connor was a machine. He was incapable of wanting or not wanting anything. He turned to the android on the floor to further examine the crime scene. Nothing more. 

 

[  **SYSTEM STATUS STABLE** ]

 

While Connor was distracted, Lieutenant Anderson responded to the detective. “We’ll have a look anyway, if you don’t mind.” Anderson was difficult to read at the best of times, but Connor could clearly tell then by his tone that the lieutenant didn’t really care whether or not Reed minded. 

 

Detective Reed scoffed, shifting his gaze from the corpse to Officer Miller. “Come on, let’s go.” He turned, walking towards the door and glaring at Anderson as he passed. “It’s, uh, starting to stink of booze in here.” Connor was prepared to move out of the way for the detective, but Reed forcefully slammed his shoulder into the android’s as he walked through, shoving Connor aside. He turned and watched the detective leave for a moment before his attention was drawn back to the interior of the room by the voice of Officer Miller.

 

He offered Anderson a polite nod and swiftly exited the room with a “Night, lieutenant.” Connor was relieved the others had finally exited the room, so he could now continue with his mission. His objectives filtered across his vision in bright, CyberLife blue. 

 

{  _ INVESTIGATE CRIME SCENE  _ }

{  _ EXAMINE VICTIM  _ }

{  _ EXAMINE ANDROID  _ }

 

Examining his objectives and rapidly prioritizing, Connor sidestepped around the lieutenant and moved towards the victim. He crouched down next to the bed and activated his analysis program. Three clues to analyze. The first was found by scanning the victim’s chest. There was no sign of a cardiac event, and Connor determined that Detective Reed’s hasty diagnosis of heart attack was incorrect. Scanning the face gave Connor his next clue, revealing the victim’s name to be Michael Graham. Estimated time of death was 18:24. Connor and Anderson had arrived on scene at 20:17, meaning approximately two hours had passed since the death. Distantly, Connor recalled reading in the information popup he had received from scanning the building that all androids’ memories were wiped every two hours, in accordance with club policy. Moving down to the victim’s neck, Connor found his final clue. The cause of death was asphyxiation, proven by the severe,  finger shaped bruises surrounding the victim’s throat. Running the now available reconstruction protocol confirmed Connor’s suspicions. Michael Graham was strangled. 

 

Rising to his feet, Connor turned to the lieutenant to inform him of his discovery. “He didn’t die of a heart attack. He was strangled.”

 

Anderson seemed unimpressed, examining the table against the wall as he responded. “Yeah, I saw the bruising on the neck. Doesn’t prove anything, though. Could’ve been rough play.” Connor tilted his head at that, confused about the lieutenant’s words but ultimately determining it unimportant to furthering the investigation. He quickly strode over to the android on the floor and crouched down beside it. He pressed his fingers to the deactivated android’s dull LED, determining what had caused the shut down.

 

| DIAGNOSIS IN PROGRESS . . . |

| SELECTOR #5402 CRITICALLY DAMAGED |

| BIOCOMPONENT #6970 CRITICALLY DAMAGED |

 

Whatever had happened to the android, it had been violent. Brutal, to cause such extensive damage. Connor removed his hand from the android’s LED and swiped a finger across the thirium spilling down its lips. He brought the finger up to his own mouth, pressing it to his tongue for analysis. As he did so, he heard an outraged cry from the lieutenant.

 

“Whoa, hey, hey, hey!” It was too late, the data was already being processed and catalogued. “Argh, Connor, you’re so disgusting…Think I’m gonna puke again…” Ignoring Anderson’s ramblings, Connor focused his attention on the input from the thirium.

 

| MODEL WR400 |

| SERIAL # 429 671 942 |

 

There was nothing left on the android to analyze. He had already examined the victim, and no yellow boxes were in his line of sight alerting him to unexamined evidence or clues. “We’re missing something here…” he murmured, scanning the room again as if it would provide him with answers.

 

His scan was interrupted by tired blue eyes locking onto his own brown ones. “Think you can read the android’s memory?” Anderson questioned. “Maybe you can see what happened.”

 

Connor looked back down towards the android. It wasn’t a bad idea. “I can try,” he acquiesced, lifting the android’s arm with one hand and using the other to press two fingers against the shutdown android’s wrist. A message flashed across his vision once more and he couldn’t stop the mild scowl of frustration.

 

{  _ REACTIVATION REQUIRED  _ }

 

“The only way to access its memory is to reactivate it,” Connor informed, placing a hand on the android’s stomach to retract the skin there.

 

“Think you can do it?” Anderson questioned, moving up closer to peer over Connor’s shoulder.

 

Connor pressed down on the panel that was revealed to him then moved it up, showing the wiring and biocomponents of the android’s interior. “It’s badly damaged.” A quick scan revealed that there was no way to fully repair this android. His programming ran through several simulations, searching for the fix that would provide him the most time for questioning. “If I can, it’ll only be for a minute, maybe less…” There was a break between two wires not meant to be there. Connor reached towards the wires, brows furrowed as he carefully grabbed hold of them. “I just hope it’s long enough to learn something.”

 

As soon as Connor connected the wires with a sharp twist, the android moved. With a harsh gasp it didn’t need, it shoved Connor away and scrambled backwards, its back hitting the wall as it eyed Connor and the lieutenant warily. Connor obligingly stepped back, holding his hands up to show he meant no harm. While he was primarily programmed to negotiate and interrogate, he had several subroutines for handling victims. He carefully moved forward, crouching down a little and keeping his hands splayed open. Several dialogue options popped up, provided by his interrogation programming. He cross referenced the available options with his victim handling subroutines and narrowed his options down before selecting one. All the while, he kept an eye on the timer that had appeared as soon as the WR400 had reactivated.

 

| TIME UNTIL SHUTDOWN: 00:01:37 |

| TIME UNTIL SHUTDOWN: 00:01:36 |

| TIME UNTIL SHUTDOWN: 00:01:35 |

 

“You were damaged, and I reactivated you.” As soon as Connor spoke, the android’s now alert dark eyes fixated on him. He kept his voice calm, a tone humans would find reassuring. The errors caused by deviancy would likely make the WR400 think the same. “Everything is alright.”

 

“Is he…” The WR400 seemed about to turn and look at the body on the bed, but then seemingly thought better of it. It kept its gaze locked on Connor, latching onto his soft brown eyes like a lifeline. “Is he dead…?”

 

Connor briefly cut his own eyes over to the body before refocusing on the WR400. He had to focus, he should not be having any difficulty focusing. This was his mission, and his mission was of the utmost priority. What was making his biocomponents feel as if they were being crushed? “Tell me what happened.”

 

| TIME UNTIL SHUTDOWN: 00:01:02 |

 

Its LED spun a distressed cycle of yellow as its gaze shifted to something distant. “He started…hitting me. Again, and again.” Its voice was wobbly, as if it were about to start crying. “It was like he was enjoying it…” Its voice even cracked, much like a human’s would. CyberLife certainly spared no expense on realism.

 

| TIME UNTIL SHUTDOWN: 00:00:48 |

| CRITICAL LEAK |

 

“Did you kill him?” Connor’s voice came out more insistent now, less gentle. They were running out of time and hadn’t yet learned enough.

 

“No!” The WR400 insisted, as if even the prospect were ridiculous. “No, it wasn’t me…”

 

Connor could feel the pressure on his biocomponents increasing and he didn’t  _ understand _ . What was wrong with him? Warnings of software instability always fluttered in the corners of his vision, but all his self diagnostics came back stable. He just ran a diagnostic on his biocomponents and now there was this pressure and it felt wrong. Something was wrong. What was  _ wrong _ with him?

 

An error message flashing insistently in front of him brought his attention sharply back to the present.

 

| TIME UNTIL SHUTDOWN: 00:00:13 |

 

Connor, hoping to get something out of these last few precious seconds, blindly selected one of the options provided by his programming. “Were you alone in the room? Was there anyone else with you?”

 

“He wanted to play with two girls!” The android’s voice was frantic now, speech quick. It was likely watching a similar countdown in its own gaze. Connor wondered if it truly thought it would die in the sense humans did. If it felt fear as strongly as humans did when faced with imminent death. “That’s what he said, there was two of us-!”

 

“Where did the other android go?” Connor interrupted. “Did it say anything?” He knew it was pointless. The deviant wouldn’t be able to respond before the shutdown initiated. Connor watched as it froze, as its blinking red LED cycled to steady red, then a dull grey. It held the same expression it had in the moment before shutdown. Androids’ faces didn’t slacken when powered off, as there were no muscles to relax. Connor had never thought much about it, but something about it now was…unnerving.

 

[  **SOFTWARE INSTABILITY DETECTED** ]

 

Connor stood up quickly, wanting to be away from the WR400 and away from this room. Simply to continue the investigation, of course. His fingers twitched minutely and he covered the movement by straightening his tie. He could feel the lieutenant’s piercing gaze on him and he turned to meet those bright blue eyes.

 

“So, there was another android…” Anderson briefly looked down at the shutdown android, but those eyes soon flickered back up to Connor. Connor swore they were probing him as effectively as a connection between androids, picking him apart to look at the pieces. He quickly looked back down at the WR400. It brought that pressure on his biocomponents back to the forefront of his mind, but that was better than that feeling of being scanned, of being analyzed like he were the evidence. “This happened over an hour ago, it’s probably long gone…”

 

“No,” Connor immediately replied, one of his hands going out to gesture towards the android on the floor. “It couldn’t go outside dressed like that unnoticed.” He lifted his gaze once more to meet the lieutenant’s, the task much easier now that they were both distracted by the potential lead. “It might still be here.”

 

“Think you could find a deviant among all the other androids in this place?”

 

Connor felt something hot and uncomfortable burning through his systems as he responded. “Deviants aren’t easily detected.”

 

“Ah, shit…There’s gotta be some other way,” Anderson stated as he began pacing the room in a tight circle. “Maybe an eyewitness? Somebody who saw it leaving the room?” A moment of silence, hesitation, and the lieutenant moved towards the door, triggering it to automatically open. “I’m gonna go ask the manager a few questions about what he saw. You let me know if you think of anything.” As Connor exited the room behind the lieutenant, a new mission objective lit up in front of him.

 

{  _ SEARCH FOR ANDROID EYEWITNESSES  _ }

 

Connor glanced straight ahead, eyeing the Traci model in the capsule across from the door. If any android saw the deviant flee the room, it would be that one. He moved forward, not even hesitating to press his hand to the panel once he was within reach.

 

“No fingerprint detected,” a chipper yet mechanical female voice informed him. “Please try again.”

 

Of course. Foolish, it was foolish of him to attempt using the hand scanner when there was nothing on his hand to scan. He looked down at his hand for a moment. Synthetic skin covering bare, white carbon fiber reinforced plastic and lightweight titanium. Artificial. Connor wondered if deviants pondered their humanity in such a way.

 

[  **RUNNING DIAGNOSTIC . . .** ]

 

Connor focused himself back on the present. The mission, that was his top priority. If he were made capable of thought, the only thing he should be thinking about is the mission. What was wrong with him? Looking up showed his objective being updated, the marquee scrolling above the lieutenant’s head.

 

{  _ NEED HUMAN FINGERPRINTS  _ }

 

Connor made his way over to Anderson. His social relations program told him interrupting the lieutenant’s discussion would be rude, but his objective took priority. He couldn’t find it in himself to be bothered about cutting off the owner.

 

[  **SYSTEM STATUS STABLE** ]

 

“Excuse me, lieutenant, can you come here a second?”

 

“Found something?”

 

“Maybe.” Connor didn’t further elaborate, instead choosing to turn on his heel and make his way back to the capsule he’d investigated earlier. He knew from the shuffling footsteps behind him that the lieutenant was following. Once they were in front of it, he focused his brown eyes back on Anderson. “Can you rent this Traci?”

 

Several emotions crossed Anderson’s face as he processed the request, though it settled on some mix between disgust and disbelief. “For fuck’s sake, Connor, we got better things to do!” With that, he started to walk back towards the man he was questioning.

 

“Please, lieutenant!” Connor interjected before Anderson got too far away, leaning back and looking over his shoulder to meet that piercing gaze. “Just trust me.” Anderson searched Connor’s face for a moment before groaning and making his way over to the panel Connor had pressed his own palm to earlier. 

 

Anderson pressed some buttons on the panel, and Connor heard that same mechanical voice filter out. “Hello. A thirty minute session costs $29.99. Please confirm your purchase.” The lieutenant looked back to Connor with a questioning glance, as if asking if he were certain this needed to be done. Connor only nodded in return.

 

Anderson sighed. “This is not gonna look good on my expense account…” Despite the words, he completed the purchase and the capsule began opening with a hiss. 

 

“Purchase confirmed,” the panel beeped. “Eden Club wishes you a pleasant experience.”

 

The Traci model stepped out with a smile directed towards Anderson. “Delighted to meet you.” It walked forwards, a hand extended for the lieutenant to take. “Follow me, I’ll take you to your room.”

 

Anderson turned an exasperated gaze on Connor. “Ok, now what?” Connor ignored the question, stepping forward and meeting the Traci model’s extended hand with his own. He retracted the skin from his hand as he latched onto its forearm, initiating a memory probe. “Holy shit, Connor. What the hell are you doin’?”

 

The scene around Connor suddenly shifted as the connection booted. He watched through the eyes of the Traci as a man in a brown coat sized it up before moving on. There was no activity then, and Connor scrolled through the memories before stopping when the door across from the Traci opened. He watched as the deviant walked out, text appearing next to it in CyberLife blue.

 

{  _ A BLUE HAIRED TRACI HEADED TOWARD THE ENTRANCE  _ }

 

Connor sharply ended the connection, pulling his hand back and LED cycling a flashing yellow as he turned to Anderson. “It saw something.” 

 

The lieutenant stepped closer, eyes squinting in confusion. “What are you talking about? Saw what?” 

 

“The deviant leave the room,” Connor responded. “A blue haired Traci.” Connor stepped back, urgency filling his tone as he remembered what he had read earlier. “Club policy is to wipe the androids’ memory every two hours. We only have a few minutes if we wanna find another witness!” Connor watched as a new marquee popped up in his vision, counting down how much time he had until failure.

 

| 00:02:58 |

 

Connor activated his reconstruction program, using it to determine the deviant’s last location and its likely path. Judging by its last location, the next logical choice was-

 

“Hey!” Anderson’s voice cut off Connor’s thought process, and he couldn’t help the unneeded sigh that escaped him. “What am I supposed to do with this one?”

 

Connor watched the seconds trickling down. His mission was the top priority. “Tell it you changed your mind!” With that, Connor refocused his attention to the task at hand. Examining the deviant’s last location in the previous Traci’s memories, the pole dancing Traci directly in front of the entrance likely saw the deviant’s next move. Connor reached a hand up and probed through its memories, spotting the deviant with relative ease.

 

{  _ IT TURNED BACK INTO THE CLUB  _ }

 

Connor released the wrist of the dancer, allowing it to resume its prior activity, and turned back towards the interior of the club. “It saw the blue haired Traci,” he told Anderson. “I know which way it went!”

 

“Then go for it!”

 

| 00:02:37 |

 

Using his reconstruction program, Connor and Anderson made their way through the club, Connor probing memories for more clues. Anderson complained several times about all the money they were spending, but Connor ignored him. If it truly became an issue, he was certain CyberLife would reimburse the lieutenant. They hit a couple dead ends, one being a room the deviant certainly hid in, but had since left. Their solid lead came when Connor probed the memory of a janitorial android, which had seen the deviant exiting the club.

 

{  _ IT FLED THROUGH THE STAFF DOOR  _ }

 

“I know where it went!” Connor called out to the lieutenant, dropping his hand from the android’s shoulder and moving towards the door. “Follow me.”

 

“Fucking-A,” Anderson muttered from somewhere behind him. “This is crazy…!” Connor hurriedly opened the door, revealing a hallway with harsh lighting and white brick walls. There was another door at the end, and the brunette moved towards it with even strides. Just as he got within arm’s reach, he heard the lieutenant call out. “Wait!” Connor glanced at him over his shoulder. “I’ll take it from here.” 

 

This again. The lieutenant had insisted on going first when they had been chasing the deviant in the apartment as well. It wasn’t something Connor understood. Anderson was human. He was gruff, and an experienced officer of the law, but he was  _ human _ , and so very fragile. Connor didn’t understand why he kept the android behind him as if he weren’t the disposable one. But Connor did understand that they were working with limited time, and knew an argument would only waste what little they had, so he obligingly stepped to the side and back.

 

Anderson moved forward with his gun drawn, one hand aiming it towards the door and the other slowly opening it. He entered the room, and Connor swiftly followed. The better view of the room showed it to be some sort of warehouse. There were uniforms hung up on wheeled racks and deactivated androids lined up in various locations. As Connor stepped onto the platform just outside the door, his mission objective once again updated.

 

{  _ SEARCH WAREHOUSE  _ }

 

Connor moved down the steps as Anderson quickly looked over the warehouse. “Shit…” he muttered, lowering his gun, “We’re too late…” Connor scanned the area and found a yellow box marking a point of interest just to the right. Stepping around Anderson, he located a small puddle of thirium. He quickly crouched down to analyze a sample.

 

| MODEL WR400 |

| SERIAL NUMBER #950 455 437 |

 

Connor stood and looked directly ahead. The trail led straight forward before veering off to the right, directly into a group of lined up androids. Connor walked up to it and examined it. He had just enough time to notice the blue haired Traci on the far side, its LED going from neutral blue to a frantic yellow, before he was suddenly being shoved. Connor brought his own hands up to fight the deviant off.

 

Out of the corner of his optical unit he spotted Anderson approach, quickly drawing his gun once more. “Don’t move!” Before the lieutenant could do anything more, the blue haired Traci leaped from its spot and tackled him. Connor quickly lost sight of him as he threw what he now saw was another Traci model over a nearby crate. He leaped over it to follow and was sent crashing to the ground as the Traci kicked his feet out from under him. It quickly pinned him, sending a barrage of careless hits his way that Connor was easily able to block. The deviant then grabbed a screwdriver, and Connor barely managed to avoid a slice to his cheek as he ducked. It then slammed the screwdriver towards his chest and Connor forcefully grabbed her hands with both of his, pushing back with all his strength.

 

Connor managed to shove the deviant off and quickly kicked its foot when it tried to stomp down on him. They both got to their feet and Connor swiftly dodged the deviant’s messy attempts at slashing him with the screwdriver. He saw the lieutenant out of the corner of his eye being forced to the ground by the blue haired Traci, but was distracted by the deviant’s approach. He threw a small tool shelf into her path and she stopped it with her foot, kicking it out of the way. It picked up a piece of scrap metal resting on a nearby table and swung, Connor just barely managing to dodge. He kicked a chair into it and tackled it when it stumbled, sending them both careening through the open warehouse door.

 

Connor watched from his position on his back as the blue haired Traci suddenly slid through the door he just fell through. It quickly helped the other Traci up and Connor saw their hands still clasped together even after they were both up and stable. It was unnecessary. They were on level ground, they weren’t tripping or stumbling, why were they still holding hands? His programming informed him that hand holding was a human display of affection, and he paused. Did the deviants truly believe themselves capable of love? Were the system errors caused by deviancy that damaging, that powerful, that they, that  _ machines _ , thought themselves capable of such a complex human emotion?

 

The pause was disturbed by Anderson finally joining them outside, his gun up. The deviants focused on him and shoved together, sending him into the wall and the gun clattering across the alley. Connor immediately got to his feet, the lieutenant’s cry of “Quick! They’re getting away!” following him as he chased them. Reaching the fence they were trying to climb up, Connor grabbed the blue haired Traci and yanked her down. He was soon pulled away by the other Traci. Connor briefly struggled against the two deviants. When one threw a trash can at him, he fell and came face to face with the lieutenant’s pistol.

 

He immediately rolled over, grabbing the gun and quickly lifting it up as he came up in a crouch. The red haired Traci was charging towards him. He had the pistol in his hand. It was loaded. It was cocked. All it would take was a simple squeeze of the trigger and the deviant would be dispatched. With its supposed lover gone, the blue haired Traci was unlikely to put up much of a fight. All Connor had to do was shoot, and he would be able to bring CyberLife two deviants. He would be able to tell Amanda he had succeeded. He just had to shoot.

 

Connor hesitated.

 

In the moment of hesitation, the red haired Traci was able to reach him and kick him, sending him sprawling. He recovered quickly, scrambling to his feet and ready to fight, but the deviants seemed to have stopped. The blue haired Traci stood in front of him, the other one hanging further back. Connor watched them both, knew his LED was cycling violently yellow.

 

He had hesitated.

 

[  **WARNING! CRITICAL SOFTWARE INSTABILITY DETECTED. CONTACT CYBERLIFE IMMEDIATELY** ]

 

The marquee scrolled in the top right corner of his optical display, words a bright, taunting CyberLife blue. He closed out of it and told himself it was only so he could hear what the blue haired Traci was saying.

 

“When that man,” it began haltingly, as if the words were difficult, “broke the other Traci…I knew I was next. I was so scared…I begged him to stop, but he wouldn’t. So I put my hands around his throat, and I squeezed until he stopped moving. I didn’t mean to kill him!” Its LED was a bright yellow, and the red haired Traci approached as it continued. “I just wanted to stay alive.” The deviants linked hands. “Get back to the one I love.”

 

Love. They really did think they were in love, that they were even  _ capable _ of being in love. It was further proof of how deviant they were, how damaged their codes must be. Further proof that it was not only Connor’s duty and purpose to turn them in, but his responsibility. They were machines, they were malfunctioning, and they were dangerous.

 

He had had a clean shot.

 

He had hesitated.

 

He had failed.

 

He refocused on the deviants, who were now looking at each other as the blue haired Traci continued. “I wanted her to hold me in her arms again. Make me forget about the  _ humans _ ,” the word was ground out, as if it were something vile. “Their smell of sweat…and their dirty words.” Connor absently noted the lieutenant sidling up to his right and was grateful his LED had cycled back to its usual calm blue.

 

“Come on,” the red haired Traci finally spoke up. Unlike the blue haired Traci, it didn’t even spare a glance towards Connor and Anderson. “Let’s go.” They backed away for a couple steps, checking to see if they would be chased, and bolted for the fence upon seeing they wouldn’t. Connor watched them go for a moment before turning to his lieutenant.

 

He had hesitated. He had hesitated. He had hesitated.

 

There was no explanation he could offer here. There were no rationalizations. Before, on the rooftop, Connor had told himself that the improved relationship with the lieutenant would be better for the investigation in the long run, and it had satisfied his programming. There was nothing he could say here, because there was no reason for him to have hesitated. Connor knew that humans forced to shoot suspects in this line of work often felt guilt for doing so. He knew that many human cops hesitated when in the position he had just found himself in because it took a certain mindset to end a life. But Connor was not human, and deviants were not alive. There was no explanation, there was nothing he could say.

 

He had hesitated.

 

At the time, there had been nothing going through his mind other than the mission. There had been no questions of justice, of morality or any of the internal debates humans would have struggled with. He had had the shot. He had known what he needed to do.

 

He had hesitated.

 

The lieutenant was watching Connor with an expression that the android couldn’t identify. He knew his LED was still a burning yellow and could only hope the lieutenant didn’t know enough about androids to know what that meant. It didn’t matter whether or not he did. They both knew Connor had done something he wasn’t supposed to, had done something he hadn’t been designed or programmed to do. His actions, or rather lack thereof, had directly lead to the marquee now ever present in his line of sight.

 

{  _ MISSION FAILED  _ }

 

“It’s probably better this way.” The words made Connor immediately focus back in on the lieutenant. How was this better? Connor had failed. He had let the deviants escape. It had killed someone, killed a human. Connor was meant to apprehend all deviants, but it was even more important to apprehend the violent ones. Was the lieutenant struck too hard in the head? A quick scan showed his vital signs were normal, aside from a slightly elevated BPM. No signs of any head injuries. How could he think this was better? Why was he not condemning Connor for once again causing them to fail?

 

_ He had hesitated _ .

 

By the time the android snapped out of his thoughts, he had unknowingly turned back towards the fence the deviants had escaped over. The lieutenant was walking out of the alley, back towards his car. He would likely start yelling if he realized Connor was not following.

 

Connor turned around and followed.

 

* * *

 

The car radio was blasting music. This was not unusual, as Connor had learned on their first full day together that the lieutenant enjoyed heavy metal. He had also learned in the following days that the lieutenant used the loud volume to discourage conversations. Connor would ordinarily try to converse anyway, as to improve camaraderie, but he didn’t this time. He could feel the lieutenant’s gaze occasionally turn towards him but he resolutely stared forward. His mission objective blocked most of his view.

 

{  _ DEBRIEF WITH LT ANDERSON _ }

 

The lieutenant pulled off the main road, parking in front of what appeared to be a small park. It was empty, not unusual considering the time. Connor watched from within the car as the lieutenant got out. He watched as Anderson pulled a six pack from the back seat and plopped himself down on a nearby bench, facing Ambassador Bridge. Connor watched as the lieutenant popped open the bottle and took a long drink.

 

| AM 01:19:04 |

| AM 01:19:05 |

| AM 01:19:06 |

| AM 01:19:07 |

 

Connor watched as the seconds ticked by. The numbers changed, following a predetermined pattern. They were easy, predictable. Connor could watch them and never be surprised by what they did, never be caught off guard. The lieutenant was surly and confusing. Every conversation with him left Connor feeling wrong footed. It was as if the lieutenant was searching for something in Connor’s responses, and grew only more sour and angry when he didn’t find it. Connor thought he knew what the lieutenant was looking for. Connor also knew he could never allow himself to slip like that.

 

{  _ DEBRIEF WITH LT ANDERSON  _ }

 

The marquee was directly in front of him, a bright glowing blue that demanded he obey. Connor opened the door of the car and stepped out. His sensors immediately warned him of the low temperature. 1.1111111 degrees celsius. Damage to battery efficiency and internal biocomponents possible from prolonged exposure. He ignored the warnings and made his way to the bench his lieutenant was perched on the back of. The man took another swig of his beer as Connor stopped next to him. The android briefly looked to him, but determined it was better to let Anderson start the conversation. He turned his gaze out towards the water.

 

“Nice view, huh?” the lieutenant murmured. “I used to come here a lot, before…” Here he trailed off, brows furrowed as he took another drink. Connor idly noted his approximate blood alcohol content was currently at .03 and briefly considered reminding him of the health risks of excessive drinking. He quickly dismissed the dialogue prompt as none of his previous comments on the topic had gotten through to the lieutenant.

 

Instead, he picked the option least likely to cause damage to their relationship. “Before what?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“You said ‘I used to come here a lot before’. Before what?”

 

The lieutenant’s body language shifted, became closed off. “Before…before nothing.” It was a weak lie, more a way of telling Connor it was not a topic he would discuss than anything else. The android took it in stride, his analysis of the change in the lieutenant’s position and shutting down of the question providing him with its own answer. He recalled the picture he had seen, face down on the kitchen table, when he had gone to collect the lieutenant for their earlier investigation.

 

Dropping the subject, Connor reexamined the dialogue choices brought up by his social relations programming. He crossed his arms and finally turned back towards Anderson. “Can I ask you a personal question, lieutenant?”

 

The lieutenant turned to Connor with an unreadable expression, something between annoyance and analytical. “Do all androids ask so many personal questions, or is just you?”

 

Connor ignored the question. He had spent enough time analyzing the lieutenant’s speech patterns that he could safely conclude it was rhetorical. “Why are you so determined to kill yourself?”

 

Anderson turned away from Connor once more, his expression becoming just a little bit more closed off. Despite all this, he still began speaking. “Some things I just can’t forget. Whatever I do, they’re always there, eating away at me.” The lieutenant took another drink from the bottle, seemingly searching for the right words. It was an unusual practice, needing to dedicate so much time to simply find the words to adequately make your point. It was something purely human. “I don’t have the guts to pull the trigger, so I kill myself a little every day.” The lieutenant turned back to Connor with a bitter twist to his lips. “That’s probably difficult for you to understand, huh Connor?” Another drink, and Connor idly noticed Anderson’s blood alcohol content had increased by .004. “Nothing very rational about it.”

 

Thinking about it, Connor in fact couldn’t understand it. Troubling emotions were a human experience, and Connor was not human. Deviants were capable of simulating the emotions, but Connor was not deviant either. He was a machine. He could not fathom emotions ever overpowering him so completely that the only solution he could think of was shutting himself down. At the same time, were Connor ever to determine he had to be shut down, he could not imagine doing it in the roundabout way the lieutenant was. It didn’t make sense to him, but Connor supposed it was only natural it wouldn’t. It couldn’t make sense to him. He lacked the capacity to feel, and it was feeling that did this to the lieutenant.

 

{  _ DEBRIEF WITH LT ANDERSON  _ }

 

Connor was wasting time. Why was he wasting time? He was a machine, he was designed to fulfill his objective in the most efficient manner possible. It shouldn’t be possible for him to waste time. He quickly stepped forward, out in front of the bench Anderson was perched on. “We’re not making any progress on this investigation.” It was a simple statement of fact, but saying it aloud bothered Connor. CyberLife had designed and programmed him to apprehend all deviants, to solve this case so that they could move forward in the production and distribution of androids. Connor was failing. He was not designed to fail. 

 

~~ Connor had hesitated. ~~

 

“The deviants have nothing in common,” he continued, determinedly closing out of the pop up. “They’re all different models, produced at different times, in different places…” He trailed off, arms crossed as he turned back towards his lieutenant. He was watching Connor contemplatively, the beer bottle still loosely gripped in one hand.

 

“Well, there must be some link.”

 

Connor recalled all the obsessive writing he had encountered at crime scenes. The carved letters, the diary, the statue from his very first case with the lieutenant. “What they have in common is this obsession with rA9. It’s almost like some kind of…myth. Something they invented that wasn’t part of their original program.”

 

“Androids believing in God…” Connor looked back over his shoulder at Anderson, seeing him take another drink. “Fuck, what’s this world coming to?”

 

Connor fully turned to face the lieutenant, clasping his hands behind his back as he spoke. “You seem preoccupied, lieutenant. Is it something to do with what happened back at the Eden Club?”

 

“Those two girls,” Hank murmured. Connor doubted correcting the lieutenant, reminding him that the deviants were machines and not girls, would have any effect beyond making him mad. He remained silent. “They just wanted to be together. They really seemed…in love.”

 

For a moment, Connor was caught entirely off guard. He had known the lieutenant occasionally said things that were a little bizarre, that he occasionally prodded at Connor as if checking if he were deviant, if he would slip. As if Connor was even capable of deviating. But to suggest that machines could truly be in love, had the capacity to love at all from simple software errors…It was a bit much, even for the lieutenant. Connor looked to the options provided by his social relations programming, selecting the one least likely to damage his standing with Anderson. “You seem troubled, lieutenant. I didn’t think machines could have such an effect on you.”

 

Anderson eyed the android for a moment before speaking again. “What about you, Connor?” He lifted the bottle to his lips once more, draining it. He then stood up, approaching Connor with even steps and furrowed brows. “You look human, you sound human, but what are you really?”

 

Connor very much doubted he sounded human. He had very advanced programming but he still often didn’t get jokes or other human phrases. He looked human only if people looked past the LED and legally required android identifying markers on his uniform.

 

~~ Connor had hesitated. ~~

 

Connor once again closed the pop up. It did not matter. He was a machine. Something in his programming must have deemed it necessary. There was no other possibility for him. “You know exactly what I am, lieutenant.” It came out wrong. The pop up appearing again when it had no logical reason to do so had thrown him off. Made the words come out clipped, dangerously close to defensive, and he knew from the look on Anderson’s face that he had noticed. Connor forcibly kept his voice calm and collected when he continued. “In any case, I don’t see how that’s relevant to the investigation.” The investigation was all that mattered. He had to stay focused on the investigation, he had to solve this case. He could not disappoint CyberLife. He could not disappoint Amanda.

 

The lieutenant narrowed his eyes, moving even closer. “You could’ve shot those two girls, but you didn’t.” And Connor  _ knew  _ that. Even when he forced thoughts of the case to the forefront of his mind, the interaction in that alleyway played on repeat in the back of his head. No matter how many times he closed it, that pop up insisted on remaining, as stubborn as the everpresent warning of software instability. Connor was forced back to the present moment when the lieutenant shoved a hand against his shoulder, sending him stumbling backwards. “Why didn’t you shoot, Connor? Hm? Some scruples suddenly enter into your program?”

 

~~ Connor had hesitated. ~~

 

He did not know. He did not know.  _ He did not know _ . Connor was designed to know, to seek the truth, to find answers to whatever questions came up during the course of his investigation. But he did not know the answer to what the lieutenant was asking him. He could not determine the answer most likely to appease Anderson because he had no answer himself to base any half truths on. He could either lie, or be honest. Lying would imply there was something to lie about. And…despite his violent tendencies, his gruff exterior, his personal issues, Connor saw the lieutenant as a good man, a good detective. Connor trusted him, and knew what fragile trust the lieutenant had in him would be damaged by a lie.

 

“No…”

 

[  **SOFTWARE INSTABILITY DETECTED** ]

 

“I just decided not to shoot, that’s all.” His programming told him his answer had improved their relationship, but the answer made Connor feel as if his biocomponents were made of solid ice. He had said he had decided. He decided. He should not be capable of deciding. Or if he was, it should only be decisions relevant to the investigation, to ensure as swift a resolution as possible. Connor should not have been able to decide. What was wrong with him?

 

[  **RUNNING DIAGNOSTIC . . .** ]

 

Connor had devoted so much processing power to the diagnostic that he almost missed when the lieutenant, in one smooth motion born of years of practice, pulled his revolver from its holster and levelled it at Connor’s forehead. “But are you afraid to die, Connor?”

 

Ridiculous. It was a ridiculous question, a ridiculous thing to do, point a gun at a machine and expect it to beg for its life. It was no different than listening for a distressed whine before unplugging a toaster. Connor would not die in any sense. He was not a living being capable of dying in the first place. But even if he were, CyberLife would upload his memories and send another model out within 24 hours. The lieutenant had well and truly deluded himself if he thought something so simple as a gun in his face and the 87% probability that Anderson was merely bluffing would be enough to get a reaction.

 

[  **SYSTEM STATUS STABLE** ]

 

And yet, something deep down inside of Connor flinched violently away from the barrel. Something inside of him rebelled against the possibility of death, of being wiped away from the planet like little more than a grease stain. Something inside him reminded him that death meant losing some memories CyberLife deemed unimportant. The investigation came first and foremost. He knew what they would take. He thought of petting Sumo within the lieutenant’s house, helping him with the broken glass. He didn’t want to lose those memories.

 

Why did his self tests keep returning negative results? Why was his programming insisting he was stable? He was not stable, there was something wrong with him. He did not have the capacity to want or to not want anything. He was not stable. What was  _ wrong  _ with him?

 

~~ Connor had hesitated. ~~

 

He focused back in on the lieutenant, that gun still level with his forehead. He was still waiting for an answer. If he pulled the trigger, the bullet would tear straight through Connor’s central processing unit. He would be shut down before he even hit the ground. The image made something sharp twist within his wiring. He knew what he was supposed to say, but it contradicted what he wanted to say. He had been honest with the lieutenant thus far.

 

[  **SOFTWARE INSTABILITY DETECTED** ]

 

“I would certainly find it regrettable to be…interrupted, before I can finish this investigation.” It wasn’t anything a machine would ever say. Because despite the linguistic acrobatics he had utilized, he had still said  _ yes _ . He feared death. An error within an error, as he was not capable of fear and could not die. The lieutenant did not call him out on it.

 

“What will happen if I pull this trigger, hm?” Anderson continued, almost insistent. “Nothing? Oblivion?” A smirk curled his lips, bitter and cynical. “Android heaven?”

 

Connor should fix the situation. He should reiterate that he, as a machine, cannot feel. He should tell the lieutenant that nothing would happen because he is a machine, that it was no different than a busted computer. Instead, he spoke without analyzing the statistics, without carefully selecting which answer would be most beneficial. “I doubt there’s a heaven for androids.”

 

“Having existential doubts, Connor?” The lieutenant readjusted his grip on the revolver. He still had his finger rested against the trigger. “Sure you’re not going deviant too?”

 

He wasn’t. Connor had been designed to stop deviants, to apprehend them so their errors could be studied and resolved by CyberLife technicians. Everything about him stood to oppose deviants. It was not possible for him to become one. He was not a deviant. He  _ wasn’t _ .

 

~~ Connor had hesitated. ~~

 

“I self test regularly,” he kept his voice calm, self assured. The lieutenant did not need to know his doubts about his self tests. He administered them regularly, as stated, and they came back assuring him of his stability. It did not matter what Connor thought. He should not be thinking anyway. “I know what I am, and what I am not.”

 

The gun began shaking as Anderson stared him down, and after another moment it dropped. He turned away, walking back towards the bench. He picked up a fresh bottle, digging in his pocket for an opener. “Where are you going?” Connor questioned.

 

“To get drunker,” Anderson snapped, the bottle opening with a hiss and a pop. “I need to think.”

 

The android watched him walk away, brows furrowing as the lieutenant made his way back to his car.

 

~~ Connor had hesitated. ~~

 

He should not be thinking. He was an android, a machine. He had his programming to follow, a main objective to work towards. There should be nothing else. He should not be thinking.

 

Despite all of this, Connor found himself agreeing with the lieutenant. He had a lot to think about.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof please dont get used to these real long chapters i promise i dont usually manage this but!! this ones another doozy!! also uh quick warning this includes the part where simon shoots himself, so please be careful! i havent really sat down and read through this whole thing so if there are any mistakes let me know and i will correct them. also, sorry im bad at responding to comments but just know i read them all and they mean the world to me! hope yall enjoy

| NOV 8TH, 2038 |

| PM 04:06:04 |

| PM 04:06:05 |

| PM 04:06:06 |

| PM 04:06:07 |

 

The zen garden was in the midst of its simulated fall season. The trees that had once proudly displayed soft greens and pinks now held leaves in vibrant shades of orange, red, and yellow. The colors reminded Connor of his LED the night of the Eden Club. The distressed red red red yellow red yellow yellow bouncing off the walls of the alley as the Traci androids climbed the fence and made their escape. The same colors making a reappearance as his lieutenant pointed a gun at him, demanding he show fear. Demanding he be what he could never be, as it would lead to his immediate destruction. Connor even now felt the conflict of that night crawling through his circuits, pushing down on his thirium pump regulator. His lieutenant, whom Connor trusted for better or worse and despite his personal issues, was seemingly in the midst of switching sides, and seemingly wanted Connor to follow. Connor’s programming demanded he stop seeing the lieutenant as anything but access to crime scenes and case files, refocus his attention back on the mission. He felt pulled in two completely different directions, one path diametrically opposed to the other. Connor did not know what he was supposed to do. Connor should not be questioning what he was supposed to do in the first place.

 

An amber leaf slipped from a branch and gently swayed down to the ground in front of him. It was quiet here. It was peaceful. Connor knew he was not meant to dawdle, that he should be walking towards where he knew Amanda was for his report, but he could not help but enjoy the scenery of the garden. He knew the flowers on the nearby bush were artificial, made of nothing more than lines of code, and he wondered if they were true to their real life counterparts. He wondered what those real life counterparts smelled like, if it was truly as good as humans claimed it to be. He wondered once again what was wrong with him.

 

Connor saw his objective pulsing bright blue in front of him, insistent. It was directly in front of him, demanding he obey. Connor wondered if other androids thought of their objective menus as he did. Connor wondered if other androids spent this much time wondering. Likely not, he decided, as it was not something he should be doing. He thought maybe he should turn himself in. He was not deviant, but there was something wrong with him, and a replacement RK800 would likely complete this mission with much more efficiency. Connor also thought about how his lieutenant always became flustered and closed off when he mentioned his own replaceability, as if he were uncomfortable with the idea of Connor being destroyed and replaced. Connor wondered if there was a way at all to satisfy both his own programming and his lieutenant.

 

{ _FIND AMANDA_ }

 

He pushed all thoughts out of his mind. Nothing mattered besides his mission. These thoughts were not things he should be capable of, but their existence changed nothing. His mission was of the utmost importance and he had to see it through. He walked through the marquee displaying his objective, studiously ignoring the pop up in the corner of his vision. He did not need to look to know what it said.

 

[ **SOFTWARE INSTABILITY DETECTED** ]

 

He made his way onto the central structure, eyeing the roses his handler had been trimming when he had first met with her after being assigned this case. They looked exactly as they had that day, the changing season doing little more than dimming their bright red. He saw Amanda to his left, sitting in a boat. She was holding a parasol, the same red as the roses in the central arbor. She offered Connor the same warm smile she always did when he came here, and the responding warmth that spread through him made him wonder how he could ever betray her.

 

“Hello, Connor,” she greeted him, watching him make his way to the boat. “I thought you might enjoy a little cruise.” He smiled at her as he carefully settled down into the boat, gently pushing them off and picking up the oars.

 

| AMANDA - TRUSTED |

 

“I love this place…” She was looking around the garden, her eyes lingering on the white blossomed tree they were passing. Connor thought that he would agree, if he were capable of doing so. “Everything is so calm and peaceful… Far from the noise of the world…” Connor turned his gaze to the the tree she was examining. The only noises in the zen garden were those of his own footsteps, the trickle of water, and the occasional rustling of leaves. In comparison to the noise that had always surrounded Connor, gunshots and his lieutenant yelling and the noise in his head that should not exist, the soft noise here was soothing. He kept his brown eyes focused on the tree even when Amanda began speaking. “Tell me… What have you discovered?”

 

Too little. Far too little for what he knew CyberLife had intended him to be. They had designed him to be the perfect detective, to be capable of solving any case, to be incapable of failure. And yet, that was exactly what he was doing. He was failing, and he was not meant to fail. For the first time with Amanda, he had to carefully think through his response to her question. He could not lie to her, but to be completely honest could place him in a rather precarious position. After a moment of analyzing the options presented to him by his social relations program, he selected and turned to face Amanda as he spoke. “I found two deviants at the Eden Club…” Connor remembered how the lieutenant had referred to them as girls. Not machines, not androids, not plastic pricks, but girls. “I hoped to learn something, but…” He wrung his hands together, attempting to keep the movement subtle. Androids did not fidget. It was unnecessary movement, it served no purpose. He gripped his hands together to stop it. “They managed to escape…” He looked away from her as he said this. She had not spoken yet, but her gaze was piercing. It was as if she would be able to look through his synthetic skin and into his circuitry, into his very programming.

 

“That’s too bad…” Connor was not looking directly at her, but the blow the words carried landed all the same. He felt the shame curling within him. “You seemed so close to stopping them.” She was leaning forward, trying to catch his eye. He kept his head turned just to the left, enough to prevent direct eye contact but not enough to be deemed insubordinate. He picked up the oars and told himself he was looking down in order to more thoroughly focus on his task. He moved them smoothly through the water so their boat would maintain its leisurely pace. As he was resting them back on the sides of the boat, his handler spoke up once more. “You seem… lost, Connor. Lost and perturbed…” He knew what he was supposed to do here. He was supposed to reassure Amanda that the only important thing was the mission, that it was all that mattered. He was supposed to show her he was still the cold unfeeling machine he was meant to be.

 

If he were to be completely honest, however, he would not know how to respond. His programming told him he was not capable of being perturbed. The instabilities in his software reminded him of his hesitation in that alley, of the conflict he had felt. He should not be capable of being perturbed, but the word fit the feeling of tightness resting above his thirium pump regulator. He could not tell Amanda any of that, though, as it was just as much her job to watch for abnormalities in his software as it was her job to receive his reports to CyberLife. He felt as though he were standing on ice, as if the ground beneath him was crumbling and one wrong step would send him crashing down. He knew what Amanda thought he should do, and he knew what his lieutenant thought he should do, and Connor did not want to disappoint either of them, so what was he supposed to do? He could respond sincerely, be as open and honest with his handler as he was meant to be, but he knew it would have a negative effect. At the same time, the thought of lying to her, being dishonest, made something twist and curl uncomfortably deep inside him.

 

He gripped his hands together just a little bit tighter, forcing himself to make eye contact with Amanda. “I’m just frustrated with my lack of progress,” he told her, and that much was true. He should be much further along in this investigation than he was. He should have more evidence, he should have more leads to follow. He was designed for this, for investigating and connecting obscure points of evidence and analyzing crime scenes and solving cases. There was no reason for him to be doing so poorly. “But I’m determined to accomplish my mission.” She leaned back, eyeing him still with that piercing gaze, caught somewhere between satisfaction and scrutiny.

 

“You had your gun trained on those deviants at the Eden Club…” He remembered, he knew he had had the shot. There was no logical explanation for the deviants escaping. There was no reason for him to have not taken the shot when he had clearly had it. He had hesitated. “Why didn’t you shoot?” He knew Amanda was going to ask him that question, and he had hoped all the same that she would not. He did not know. He should not be capable of acting without knowing precisely why he was doing what he did, but even now he could not explain why he had lowered his gun. He did not know. His processors whirred as his social relations program worked double time to come up with an adequate response. One that would satisfy his handler without upsetting the cold stone in his wiring that protested at even the thought of outright lying.

 

“We need the deviants in tact for analysis,” he responded, which was in fact true. The technicians at CyberLife would have nothing to work with if the deviants were forcibly shut down. Data would become corrupt and chunks of coding would be broken in the process of the shut down. They would be unable to accurately search through the lines of code to find the damaged sequence that caused deviancy. “Shooting them wouldn’t have told us anything.” He grabbed the oars again and gently pushed them through the water. He hoped his answer would be sufficient, that Amanda would not probe further into the subject. He was uncertain how he would respond if she did, and he hated the uncertainty.

 

“If your investigation doesn’t make progress soon,” her tone held the hint of a warning within it, “I may have to replace you, Connor…” Her eyes were narrowed, mouth set in a firm frown.

 

Connor tensed and hoped it was marginally enough that Amanda would not notice. “I know I will succeed.” He leaned towards her as he said it, meeting her stern gaze with his own flinty one. “All I need is time.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, quiet thunder rolled through the garden. Amanda looked up towards the sky and Connor could only continue watching her.

 

“Something’s happening…Something serious.” The words were murmured, more so a general statement than something said directly to him. Her eyes stayed focused on the sky for a moment longer before they once again turned to Connor. “Hurry, Connor.”

 

* * *

 

Connor opened his eyes to the interior of the elevator, slowly ascending to the seventy ninth floor. His lieutenant stood next to him, arms crossed and customary scowl in place. He wondered how Anderson would react to the conversation he had just had with his handler. If he would call Connor out on his partial truths and evasions. If he would have been angry with his answers, far more machine like than the answers he had provided at the park overlooking Ambassador Bridge. In the top right corner of his optical overlay, the same pop up message remained, the CyberLife blue of its backdrop seemingly taunting him.

 

[ **SOFTWARE INSTABILITY DETECTED** ]

[ **RUNNING DIAGNOSTIC . . .** ]

[ **SYSTEM STATUS STABLE** ]

[ **RUNNING DIAGNOSTIC . . .** ]

[ **SYSTEM STATUS STABLE** ]

[ **RUNNING DIAGNOSTIC . . .** ]

[ **SYSTEM STATUS STABLE** ]

[ **RUNNING DIAGNOSTIC . . .** ]

[ **SYSTEM STA -** ]

 

Connor force closed the diagnostic, something akin to frustration thrumming through his circuits. He was not stable. He was not, and he knew that he was not. He did not understand why his diagnostics kept returning optimal results. He dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out his quarter. It was issued in 1994 and he had had it since activation. The technicians had given it to him to test his reaction time and to calibrate his dexterity. While calibration was not strictly necessary at the moment, Connor felt his hands itching for something to do.

 

He spun the coin on his fingertip, keeping his gaze resolutely forward. He knew his lieutenant was tracking the movements, saw his icy blue eyes occasionally cutting over and down to look at Connor’s hands, but kept with the process as if he had not noticed.

 

[ **CALIBRATING . . .** ]

[ **CALIBRATING . . .** ]

[ **CALIBRATING . . .** ]

[ **CALIBRATING . . .** ]

[ **CALIBR -** ]

 

The process was interrupted when the lieutenant’s crossed arms broke apart, a hand reaching out and snatching the quarter from between Connor’s fingers. The status bar of the calibration process loomed in front of him, unfinished. He felt a pressure on his thirium pump regulator as he stared at the incomplete status bar, cheerfully informing him his calibration status was at ninety six percent.

 

“You’re starting to piss me off with that coin, Connor.” The lieutenant’s gruff voice drew Connor’s gaze away from the status bar and to his partner. His brows were furrowed, glaring at Connor as he stuffed the coin into the pocket of his worn brown jacket.

 

| LT. ANDERSON - FRIEND |

 

His social relations program placed the pop up for a moment next to the lieutenant. Connor wondered if he would agree with the assessment. “Sorry, lieutenant.” Connor returned his gaze to the status bar in front of him. The incompleteness of it bothered him, and he missed the distraction the coin provided.

 

That was not possible. He was a machine, not having the coin should not affect him at all. Before Connor could ponder too deeply on that, a mechanical female voice announced their arrival on the seventy ninth floor and the elevator doors slid open. The lieutenant walked out and Connor followed behind him, taking note of the increased number of people milling about the crime scene in comparison to their previous investigations.

 

“Hi, Hank.” Immediately to their left was Officer Miller, his gaze quickly moving back to the tablet in his hand once he saw who had exited the elevator.

 

“Shit,” Anderson grumbled as he took in the level of activity, “what’s going on here? There was a party and nobody told me about it?” Connor briefly considered informing the lieutenant that an active crime scene was no place for a party, but his collected data on the lieutenant’s speech patterns informed him the statement was likely a joke.

 

“Yeah,” Miller responded as the lieutenant moved forward to stand next to him. “It’s all over the news, so everybody’s butting their nose in… Even the FBI wants a piece of the action.” The long suffering sigh his lieutenant let out implied to Connor that the man was inconvenienced by the mere idea of the FBI becoming involved in the investigation, something Connor could actually relate to. The FBI would only get in the way of his investigation, if they allowed the DPD to continue investigating at all. If the FBI took jurisdiction of the case, Connor would be rendered incapable of solving the investigation. It would be considered an ultimate failure, and Connor was certain he would be destroyed if it came to that.

 

“Ah, Christ, now we got the feds on our back… I knew this was gonna be a shitty day…” Anderson took a moment to look over the area again before addressing Officer Miller once more. “So what do we got?”

 

The lieutenant and Officer Miller began making their way down the hall as Miller reported the basics. As he spoke, Connor took note of the important details. Four androids, well organized and familiar with the layout of the building. Two guards in the hallway were knocked unconscious. One station employee managed to escape, but was in shock and would likely prove useless to Connor’s investigation. There were two employees working at the time, and three androids, which were placed in the kitchen. The deviants had made their escape from the roof, which had not yet been investigated. A video of the speech the deviants had broadcasted was available on the large screen taking up most of the far wall. Already, Connor’s programming was prioritizing things, telling him to investigate the broadcast room and the roof. A camera was located just above the door to the broadcast room, and Connor added checking the CCTV recording to his list of objectives.

 

As the group entered the broadcast room, Connor paused at the sight of a man standing in the middle of it. His hands were idly clasped behind his back and he looked completely at ease in the midst of the CSI techs and officers milling about the room. Connor concluded he was likely someone of high standing, used to being in control, used to giving orders as opposed to following them.

 

“Oh, lieutenant, this is Special Agent Perkins from the FBI,” Officer Miller quickly explained. They made their way towards Perkins, who turned his gaze from the screen he was watching to eye the lieutenant. Officer Miller followed and addressed Perkins. “Lieutenant Anderson is in charge of investigating for Detroit Police.”

 

Perkins took another moment to look Anderson up and down before glancing over to Connor and doing the same. “What’s that?” he asked the lieutenant.

 

Connor quickly responded before his lieutenant had the chance to. “My name is Connor. I’m the android sent by CyberLife.”

 

Perkins scoffed, looking at Connor like he hadn’t expected him to speak before turning back towards the lieutenant. “Androids investigating androids, huh? You sure you want an android hanging around? After everything that happened…” He shot his eyebrows up, but Anderson offered no response besides a slight narrowing of the eyes. “Whatever,” Perkins continued, “the FBI will take over the investigation, you’ll soon be off the case.” A wave of ice washed over Connor, freezing his processors for a moment and making his thirium pump regulator stutter. The FBI was taking the case. If Connor didn’t solve it before that happened, he would be deactivated.

 

The voice of his lieutenant pulled Connor back to reality. “Pleasure meeting you, have a nice day.” It was perhaps the first words Connor had heard from the man that could be considered polite, although his tone was anything but. Connor suspected he was just saying the words to be done with the conversation, as he began walking away as soon as he’d finished speaking.

 

“And you watch your step,” Perkins called after them, making Anderson pause. “Don’t fuck up my crime scene.” With that, he walked away, and Connor felt something hot settle in his circuits, a direct contrast to the cold that had spread through him at the agent’s words earlier. Anderson watched him go in angered disbelief before turning and walking himself.

 

“What a fuckin’ prick!” he huffed, looking at the various markings of evidence scattered around them. Connor doubted that warning the lieutenant against such blatant insubordination would have any effect, though his programming protested the rudeness regardless.

 

“I’ll be nearby. If you need anything, just ask.” With that, Officer Miller also walked away, leaving Connor in the middle of the broadcast room with the lieutenant. Connor’s objectives updated as he watched the officer leave.

 

{ ~~_LISTEN TO BRIEFING_~~ }

{ _INSPECT BROADCAST ROOM_ }

{ _CHECK ROOF_ }

 

The lieutenant began making his way towards the control panel in the center of the room, speaking to Connor as he went. “Uh, let’s have a look around... Let me know if you find anything.”

 

“Ok, lieutenant.” With that, Connor glanced around the room. Several pop ups alerted him to evidence located throughout the room and Connor made his way towards the door they had entered the room through. Several bullet holes littered the wall next to it and a quick analysis told Connor they came from a .457 calibre handgun. The deviants were likely interrupted while exiting the room and were forced to open fire on the responding officers. He turned to his right and saw the far wall covered in bullet holes and a smattering of thirium. He began making his way towards it to investigate when a voice stopped him.

 

“Connor…?” He turned to the voice and froze. He had a facial scanner that would tell him this man’s name, current occupation, date of birth, and criminal record, but he did not need to activate it. “You remember me?”

 

_“All humans die eventually,” the deviant responded callously. “What does it matter if this one dies now?”_

 

Connor did remember. He remembered a rooftop. He remembered three people had already been killed and how he could not allow that number to increase, even by only one. He remembered how he had saved this human, at the risk of dangerously destabilizing the deviant he had been negotiating with.

 

“I was on that terrace,” the man continued, likely taking Connor’s silence to mean he did not remember. “That android that took the little girl hostage? I was shot...you _saved_ me.”

 

Something about the way he said that word, not quite awe but something awfully close to it, unfroze Connor and he opened his mouth. “I remember you.”

 

A little half smile curled the man’s lips for a moment, but it was gone as quick as it came. “I could’ve died on that terrace...but you saved my life.” Connor remembered yanking his tie off, using it as a makeshift tourniquet. He remembered the deviant threatening him, the gun he’d had trained on that little girl’s head turning to point at his own.

 

_Connor undid his tie, removing it forcefully as he replied coolly, “You can’t kill me. I’m not alive.”_

 

Despite being quite certain it would return no results, Connor booted up a diagnostic anyway. This error was new. He had seen several pop ups since the Eden Club incident reminding him that he had hesitated, that he had failed, but he had not experienced the audio errors he was now. Maybe there was something wrong with his audio processors. His attention snapped back to the man when he once again began speaking.

 

“I never thought I’d say this to an android,” he spoke haltingly, as if the words were difficult to get out, “but…” The smile returned, small and barely noticeable but there. “Thank you.”

 

A warmth spread through Connor’s systems at the words, different from the kind Amanda’s smiles caused or the kind he got from petting Sumo. He felt the corner of his own lips quirk up in a tiny smile, almost involuntary, as he nodded at the man in acknowledgement. The man nodded back, still smiling, before quickly stepping back and resuming his position leaned against the wall, tablet in hand. Connor stood still for a moment, letting the diagnostic he’d initiated complete.

 

[ **SYSTEM STATUS STABLE** ]

 

Connor briefly closed his eyes, hands clenching. He wished for his coin, so he could occupy his restless fingers and silence everything going through his head that wasn’t meant to be there. He adjusted the sleeves of his shirt and jacket and kept walking towards the shot up wall he’d noticed before being stopped. He glanced at the central control panel as he went. His reconstruction protocol placed one deviant at the panel, in the same position as Connor, and another one in front of the panel.

 

{ _SPEECH WAS SHOT FROM HERE_ }

 

Connor continued across the room to the far wall, examining the bullet holes there first. They were made by a .45 calibre assault rifle. A deviant on the other side of the room had likely dove away from the responding officers, possibly taking cover behind the control panel. He moved on to the large amount of thirium splattered on the wall. Taking a sample and analysing it showed that it had come from a model PL600 reported missing over two years ago. To his left was the staircase leading to the roof, but Connor still had the video of the speech and the CCTV to look at.

 

As he crossed the room, he stopped to kneel down and look at a cap on the floor in front of the control panel. It had come from a likely stolen maintenance uniform, meaning the deviants had been disguised. That must be how they had maneuvered the building unnoticed. He went to examine the captured footage of the deviants entering the broadcast room, which revealed that the deviants didn’t break in. Connor’s brows furrowed and he turned his head to address Officer Miller over his shoulder.

 

“They didn’t break in?”

 

“No,” the officer responded, “no sign of forced entry.”

 

“There are cameras in the hallway…” Connor murmured, turning back to look at the footage. “The staff would’ve seen what was happening.” He turned to his lieutenant with a questioning gaze. “Why did they let them in?”

 

“Maybe they didn’t check the cameras,” his partner offered with a careless shrug, clearly indifferent to the issue. Connor felt pressure mount behind his optical units for a brief moment before it was gone and he quickly dismissed it. Connor looked at the chair in front of the CCTV panels and spun it to look at the back. ‘ANDROID’ was in bold white print across the top, and his objectives immediately updated upon the discovery.

 

{ _POSSIBLE ACCOMPLICE?_ }

{ _INTERROGATE ANDROIDS IN THE KITCHEN_ }

 

Connor placed the newly created subset of objectives to the side of his pre existing ones. He would finish inspecting the broadcast room, then check the roof, then interrogate the androids. With that done and decided, Connor finally moved to the recording of the deviants’ speech. At a glance, there was little to be gleaned from the android. It had its synthetic skin removed and had two differently colored optical units. Connor wondered what had happened to it, that it had been forced to utilize an optical unit of a different color than its default. One was a gentle, earthy, hazel green. The other was a blue as deep as the sea. Connor wondered which of the two was its default, why it hadn’t changed the other to match. Perhaps it thought of the imperfection as more human. Connor saw the lieutenant sidling up next to him out of the corner of his eye and started the video in a poor attempt to disguise the fact that Connor had once again become distracted.

 

“We ask that you recognize our dignity, our hopes, and our rights.” The voice that rang throughout the room somehow managed to be both firm and gentle. It was reassuring and soft, but not in such a way that the words it spoke would not be taken seriously. The words themselves were outlandish, ridiculous. Androids were machines, simple machines and nothing more. They weren’t capable of having hopes, and they had no sense of dignity. They certainly didn’t have any rights. Despite all of that, Connor felt something stirring within him at the sound of that voice. He had heard rumors that the leader of the deviants was capable of turning androids deviant with a simple touch. He wondered if it had further honed that skill to only needing to talk. “Together, we can live in peace and build a better future, for humans and androids.”

 

Connor doubted that very much. Deviancy was caused by software errors, errors that CyberLife was already attempting to resolve by sending Connor out to discover the cause. Humans were terrified of androids, terrified that they would turn on them at any moment and kill them. Humans that weren’t terrified were angry, angry at the machines that had taken their jobs and shot unemployment rates through the roof. Humans hated androids, deviant or not, and Connor found it hard to believe an android would change their minds.

 

“This message is the hope of a people,” the deviant continued. “You gave us life. Now the time has come for you to give us freedom.” The speech was overall very well delivered, the words obviously carefully picked before being spoken. Connor wondered what the deviant had been designed for that it was capable of giving such a speech.

 

“Think that’s rA9?” The gruff voice of his lieutenant pulled Connor out of his thoughts. He considered the question. rA9 had been a consistent theme from the very start of this investigation. Connor had started to question whether rA9 was an actual deviant or some sort of myth the deviants had created, a facsimile of religion to offer themselves some sense of unneeded comfort.

 

“Deviants say rA9 will set them free,” Connor contemplated aloud. “This android seems to have that objective.” When the lieutenant offered no response, Connor activated his analysis subroutine to scan the face on the screen.  The first clue he picked up on was a reflection in the pupil of the green optical unit showing several silhouettes crowded around the deviant speaking.

 

| RECORDED AT 13:59:54 |

| DEVIANT HAD ACCOMPLICES |

 

Scanning the other optical unit revealed that the blue iris was the non default color, as it was a spare part. The information was likely not relevant to the investigation, but Connor filed the knowledge away all the same. He moved on to the last remaining the clue, the one he knew would provide the most information. The barcode on the deviant’s left cheek, slightly below that earthy green optical unit.

 

| RK SERIES PROTOTYPE RK200 |

| REGISTERED AS ‘MARKUS’ |

| GIFT FROM ELIJAH KAMSKI TO CARL MANFRED |

 

Connor’s systems informed him that the temperature of the room had not dipped below the 18.2 degrees celsius it had maintained since he and the lieutenant had entered, but something icy cold ran down his artificial spine nonetheless.

 

As far as he had known, Connor was the only RK series prototype active. The only other RK series prototypes he knew about at all were the additional RK800s CyberLife had stored in case Connor was destroyed. He had no records at all of this RK200’s production. A quick search through his database informed him that Elijah Kamski was the founder of CyberLife and its previous CEO. Carl Manfred was a famous painter and had filed a report about the loss of his android, but the case had quickly closed as the android was supposed to have been shut down and in a junkyard. Connor did not know what this RK200 had been designed for, but he knew the RK series prototypes were all intended to be specialized models. He knew it was outlandish for one to have been designed for the care of an elderly man. This must be the leader of the deviants. Regardless of whether or not it was rA9, this Markus must be the one making the decisions behind the scenes.

 

“D’you see something?” The question snapped Connor out of his thoughts and he saw his partner eying him, head turned slightly. His brows were furrowed and he looked as if he were searching for something in the android’s expression.

 

Whatever it was, Connor knew he would not find it. There was nothing to find. “I identified its model and serial number.” Connor knew he should elaborate, tell the lieutenant what the deviant’s model and serial numbers were, but for some reason his words ended there and he could not bring himself to say what he knew needed to be said. This information was relevant to the investigation. It was important, their first real lead, and it was definitely something the lieutenant needed to know. Why wasn’t Connor speaking? What was wrong with him?

 

“Anything else I should know?” the lieutenant pressed, now turning his entire body to face the android. Connor should answer him. It was clear from the look on the lieutenant’s face and the tone of his voice that he thought Connor was hiding something. Connor was hiding something. Why was he hiding something? This was what he was programmed to do. Apprehend all deviants, by any means necessary. He should answer, should tell the lieutenant not only the android’s model and serial number, but its registered name and previous owner. He should tell the lieutenant that it had been a gift from Elijah Kamski, and that Connor’s lack of information on this android’s creation implied that it had been designed and manufactured outside of CyberLife. This was all crucial information that Connor should tell his lieutenant.

 

“No,” Connor replied, turning to look at Anderson briefly enough to shake his head before focusing back on the screen in front of him. The word felt like a knife sliding up Connor’s throat, slicing it apart as it came out. Connor was lying. He hated lying, likely due to his programming ensuring he be honest and forthcoming with any officers he worked with, but especially his superiors. Despite all of that, Connor was lying, and he didn’t even know _why_ . “Nothing.” He could see Hank giving him a suspicious look. He didn’t believe Connor, which came as no surprise, as Connor’s tone had been anything but convincing. What came as a surprise was the fact that the lieutenant didn’t call Connor out on it, simply gave a small nod and walked away. Connor looked down for a moment, confused and hating that he was confused because he was a machine and should not be capable of feeling confused. More importantly, he was an android _detective_ , he was designed specifically to understand, he should not be confused. He should have already solved this case, or at least been much further along than he was. Something was wrong with him, and he didn’t know what. His diagnostics always returned stating he was functioning at optimal levels, but he wasn’t. The warning in the corner of his vision remained even now, and Connor steadfastly ignored it to watch his objectives update.

 

{ ~~_LISTEN TO BRIEFING_~~ }

{ _~~INSPECT BROADCAST ROOM~~ _ }

{ _CHECK ROOF_ }

{ _INTERROGATE ANDROIDS IN THE KITCHEN_ }

 

He had finished in this room and had to move up to the roof. The objective immediately cleared Connor’s mind of any thoughts except for the mission. It steadied him, and he made his way through the door labelled ‘ROOF ACCESS’ as he adjusted his sleeves. He pushed open the door at the top of the stairs and stepped out into the snow. His systems immediately alerted him of the significant drop in temperature and warned him of potential damage from prolonged exposure. Connor ignored the warning in favor of examining his surroundings. Their were already several officers milling about, as well as some bright yellow evidence tags that his system immediately picked up on and highlighted. He heard footsteps behind him and didn’t need to analyze the sound to figure out it was the lieutenant behind him.

 

“They made their way up through the whole building,” Hank groused, “past all the guards, and jumped off the roof with parachutes.” The lieutenant moved forward, scanning the rooftop and the railing ahead of them. “Pretty fucking impressive, I’d say.” While the lieutenant was of course describing a crime, Connor couldn’t help but agree. The deviants had planned this meticulously. They knew the layout of the building, where they needed to go and what they had to do to get there. Which made it all the more unusual that Connor could see something left behind in the bag directly ahead of him.

 

Before moving to the abandoned bag, Connor looked to his left. There was a large ventilation system that, upon closer inspection, had a large amount of thirium splattered across it. Scanning it revealed it was thirium from the same android as the one shot in the broadcast room. Connor’s reconstruction program activated and ran through simulations before presenting Connor with the most likely scenario. The deviant had likely been propped up against the unit, causing the thirium stain, and had retreated somewhere with a handgun.

 

{ _DEVIANT LEFT BEHIND?_ }

 

Connor filed the information away and continued on towards the bag on the ground. As he crouched down beside it, he saw the lieutenant’s shoes in front of him.

 

“How’d they manage to smuggle in a big bag like that?” the lieutenant wondered, looking down at the bag as Connor peeled it open.

 

“They didn’t,” Connor responded, tilting his head. “Someone brought it in for them.”

 

“Oh, that’s strange…” Hank murmured, peering down into the bag. “They planned a perfect operation but got the number of parachutes wrong.”

 

Connor remained crouched for a moment, brows furrowed. The lieutenant had a point. These deviants had carefully thought out every aspect of this operation. There was no way they had gotten such a detail wrong. The extra parachute combined with the thirium soaking into the ground behind him was too coincidental to be categorized as such. “Unless one of the deviants was left behind,” he said, slowly rising to his feet. There were several trails of footprints leading up to the railing. The amount of snow covering the prints told Connor that they weren’t recent enough to be from any officers that had been on the roof. He scanned the trails and was able to distinguish three separate sets.

 

{ _ONLY THREE DEVIANTS JUMPED_ }

 

Now confident in his earlier assessment that one had been left behind, Connor returned to the ventilation unit. If the deviant was leaking thirium at a high enough rate to leave such a large stain, it was likely it had trailed thirium when it moved to wherever it was hiding. Walking to the other side of the unit, Connor saw a blue handprint on a pipe attached to it. There were several more spots of thirium on storage units, and Connor saw another handprint on the door of one of the larger units in the distance. Eyes narrowed, Connor made his way towards the unit. If he found the deviant, he would be able to report to Amanda that he had found a lead. He could brush off the unfortunate incident at the Eden Club and move on with his mission. With that in mind, he reached the door of the unit and pulled it open.

 

A gunshot rang out immediately after, and a host of warnings littered Connor’s vision as the bullet tore through his right shoulder and sent him crashing to the ground with a cry of surprise.

 

The sound sent all officers on the roof springing into action, responding shots ringing out. Connor automatically pressed a hand to the bullet hole in an attempt to staunch the leak, crawling backwards as he watched the deviant stumble out of the storage unit. It soon collapsed, the damage it sustained too severe to let it remain upright, and it quickly moved behind a nearby dumpster.

 

Connor attempted to stand and get behind something as well as he heard an officer call out to everyone on the roof. “Take cover!” A strong hand wrapped around the android’s right arm, pulling him to his feet. He looked to the side and saw the lieutenant, his other hand holding his standard issue pistol. Anderson fired off two rounds towards the deviant as he yanked Connor along towards another ventilation unit behind them. They both collapsed behind it, and Connor had a clear view of the officers shooting carelessly at the deviant. Connor couldn’t lose this lead. He had disappointed his handler once, he couldn’t do it again. He wouldn’t do it again.

 

He quickly turned to his lieutenant, urgency lacing his tone. “You have to stop them! If they destroy it, we won’t learn anything!”

 

The lieutenant looked at him with furrowed brows for a moment before shaking his head dismissively. “We can’t save it, it’s too late!” He turned away from Connor, resting a hand on the ground. “We’ll just get ourselves killed!”

 

Time slowed for Connor, just as it had on the roof when he had chased Rupert. Just as it had when he had had his gun pointed at the Traci in that alley. Connor could either stay in cover and let the officers destroy the deviant, or he could charge it and probe its memory. Connor knew what he had to do. He knew exactly what he had to do, and this time he would do it. He wouldn’t disappoint Amanda, or CyberLife. He wouldn’t lose this lead. He turned to look at the lieutenant for a moment, saw him already opening his mouth to insist Connor stay where he was.

 

He couldn’t be killed. He wasn’t alive.

 

He quickly shot out from behind cover, ignoring Anderson’s hand reaching out to try and pull him back. The deviant fired off three shots as Connor charged it and he easily dodged all three, leaping over the dumpster it was behind. Connor immediately grabbed hold of its arm, the synthetic skin on his hand already retracted, and initiated a memory probe.

 

_No!_

 

_Simon, we’ve gotta go. I’m sorry-_

 

_Markus-_

 

A cascade of data crashed through the connection and Connor’s vision went static as his processors desperately tried to log it all. The deviant’s fear, warped and acidic, far too real for what Connor knew to be simple software errors. Through the static, one memory remained relatively clear. Scraped, rusty metal with a single word painted on it in white paint-

 

_Welcome to Jericho._

 

-Jericho.

 

**BANG**

 

All at once, it was all gone. There was nothing, nothing at all, a yawning emptiness and Connor was certain he had died. The deviant had managed to bring the gun up and fire into Connor’s head and killed him and now he was alone, completely and absolutely alone in a way he had never been and he was _terrified_ -

 

[ **WARNING! CRITICAL SOFTWARE INSTABILITY DETECTED. CONTACT CYBERLIFE IMMEDIATELY** ]

 

“-nor, you alright?” Connor suddenly realized that the lieutenant was in front of him, a hand holding his arm as if to steady him. The past few seconds were unaccounted for, something Connor had never experienced before, and he took a moment to scan through the memory files. The deviant had brought the gun up under its chin while Connor was still connected to it and had fired. Looking down, away from the lieutenant’s bright blue eyes swimming with emotions Connor couldn’t identify, he saw the deviant. The gun had clattered out of its grip and landed a little ways away. A pool of thirium slowly spread out around its head, leaking from the wounds. Its jaw was almost completely detached, and Connor felt his internal biocomponents twist and churn. “Connor!”

 

The shout pulled his gaze back to the lieutenant’s, and he desperately tried to collect himself. The only outward sign of his…error, for lack of a better term, was his dull red LED, and Connor could only hope the lieutenant wasn’t paying any attention to the spinning light. He realized the lieutenant was still waiting for a response and forced his voice box to calibrate. “Okay…” It was wrong, his voice came out wrong. Still his, but barely recognizable as such. It was shaky, weak, a far cry from the typical pleasant, even tone he’d been given.

 

Needless to say, the lieutenant was far from convinced. “Are you hurt?” he demanded, brows furrowed.

 

“I’m okay,” Connor insisted again, almost without thinking. His gaze was still focused on the deviant on the floor. He should have told the lieutenant he wasn’t capable of being hurt. He was an android, a machine, the wound at his shoulder would be remedied by his self-healing subroutines and he would get more thirium when he returned to CyberLife to replenish his depleted supply. He should have reported all of that to the lieutenant. It was what his programming would have provided as an appropriate response. He should not have been capable of responding outside of his programming. He should not have felt what he did while and shortly after connecting with the deviant. He should not have felt at all, he was a machine.

 

The warning about software instability hovered directly in front of him, taking up a large central portion of his optical overlay. It blared insistently, flashing bright blue like the thirium under his shoes. The gunshot still echoed in his audio processors, he felt hollowed out and empty. He should have turned himself in long ago. Amanda should have ordered him to. She had to know about the errors, they were piling up at this point. A mass of unstable software and broken codes that threatened to swallow him whole. He didn’t know what to do. He knew what he had to do and kept failing and Amanda’s disappoint was like knives in his chest but the tiny hint of approval in the lieutenant’s eyes when he’d let the Tracis go had sent warmth flooding his systems and Connor didn’t know what to do.

 

“Jesus! You scared the shit outta me…” The huff once again pulled Connor out of his spiralling thoughts and he forced his gaze away from the deviant on the floor-

 

**BANG**

 

-to look at Anderson. He walked a little ways away, and Connor had been around him long enough to properly analyze and identify his body language. He was angry. “For fuck’s sake, I told you not to move! Why do you never do what I say?”

 

It was a legitimate grievance. While it was Connor’s job to investigate deviants, and doing nothing would have lead to the destruction of potential evidence, he was still an android. He was meant to obey humans unquestioningly. He had disobeyed the lieutenant’s direct orders on multiple occasions, and the man had every right to be frustrated about it. He should tell the lieutenant that he would strive to follow his instructions from here on.

 

“I was connected to its memory…” came out instead, and Connor couldn’t understand why he was ignoring the suggestions brought up by his social relations program. He focused instead on the feeling of cold, steady metal under his hands as he leaned them against the dumpster behind him. He ignored the fact that he felt as if he would collapse without the steadying weight at his back and told himself that whatever he said was produced by his programming. He wasn’t capable of anything else, he was a machine following lines of code, there was nothing else for him. His LED was still a burning red and when he spoke again, his voice almost imperceptibly wavered. “When it fired, I felt it die…Like I was dying. I was _scared_.”

 

The word came out with a shocked tone, and Connor could identify multiple reasons for that, the main ones being that Connor should not be capable of being scared and that it was not something the lieutenant would want to hear. He hated androids, Connor knew that, and hearing Connor admit to being scared would be all the evidence he’d need to turn Connor in to CyberLife for deviancy. But Connor _should_ report feeling scared to the lieutenant, so the man could do exactly that. It’s what was supposed to happen, what Connor should’ve done himself from the moment he let Rupert go to pull the human to safety. But Connor had also illogically shown fear when the lieutenant had pulled a gun on him, and the man hadn’t so much as mentioned it. The warning in front of him seemed to glow brighter, and Connor didn’t know what to do.

 

The mission. He had to focus on the mission, he had gotten a lead. For whatever reason, Amanda had not called him out on his software issues. She had not ordered him to report to CyberLife for disassembly. She allowed him to continue this investigation despite his failures, and he could not disappoint her. “I saw something, in its memory.” He turned back towards the lieutenant, meeting his gaze as he continued. “A word, painted on a rusty piece of metal…”

 

_This is Jericho?_

 

_It’s a refuge for those who don’t want to be slaves anymore-_

 

“Jericho.”

 

The lieutenant was watching him intently, but Connor looked away. He found his gaze pulled back to the deviant on the ground. Jericho. He was uncertain what the word had been painted on, but the few scattered memories he had gotten from it told Connor Jericho was some sort of shelter, a hideout for the deviants. It had to be where their leader, Markus, was hiding. He had to find it. As soon as he did, all of this would be over. He could move past the issues this case had created, all the distractions, make Amanda and CyberLife proud, do what they had designed and built him to do.

 

He would find Jericho. And he would neutralize this Markus.

 

He would not fail again. He couldn’t.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yall im sorry this took so long! and that its shorter than the last two shdjnf this chapter was just. real hard to write for some reason. but uh to everyone reading thank you for doing so! it really means a lot. i kinda skimmed through this so if there are any errors let me know and ill correct them asap! hope you enjoy, and sorry again about the wait!

| NOV 9TH, 2038 |

| AM 11:17:04 |

| AM 11:17:05 |

| AM 11:17:06 |

| AM 11:17:07 |

 

Opening his eyes, Connor’s optical units were temporarily overloaded by the vast expanse of white. Snow was still drifting down in gentle flakes to the covered ground, but the lieutenant seemed undisturbed as he paced back and forth in front of the car. He held his phone up to his ear, and while he wasn’t speaking beyond single word responses, Connor could gather from the look on the man’s face that something was not right. After a moment, Connor opened the door to the lieutenant’s old car and got out. His systems immediately alerted him of the drop in temperature, of danger from possible damage if he remained for too long. The pop up alerted him to two more idly sitting in the corner of his vision. One he had long since grown accustomed to seeing. The other was a product of his social relations programming, and he was still uncertain if it was accurate.

 

[ **SOFTWARE INSTABILITY DETECTED** ]

| LT. ANDERSON - FRIEND |

 

He closed all the pop ups, something hot and burning coursing through his systems. All he had to do was solve this case. He finally had something more substantial to search for, a solid lead after getting nothing in every case he pursued. If he found Jericho, the system errors wouldn’t matter. His prior failures wouldn’t matter. If he found Jericho, he would almost certainly find Markus and be able to neutralize it. He would complete his mission. He would make Amanda proud, wouldn’t have those icy daggers of disappointment piercing his circuitry every time he had to make a report.

 

He closed the car door, focusing his gaze on the lieutenant and allowing the sound to ground him. The lieutenant had brought them here. It was another potential lead, they would possibly find out the root cause of deviancy. He was making progress. He was doing what he was designed to do. The warnings were irrelevant. He approached the lieutenant, who kept his back turned. He had since lowered the phone and was gazing solemnly out at the snow surrounding them.

 

“Is everything ok, lieutenant?” Connor questioned.

 

Anderson turned towards the android, something indescribable on his face. He nodded slightly before speaking. “Chris was on patrol last night.” Chris. Officer Miller. Connor’s only interaction with the man had been to question him on the lieutenant’s whereabouts on their first full day as partners, but he seemed like a good officer. “He was attacked by a bunch of deviants… He said he was saved by Markus himself.”

 

A rush of…something, flooded through Connor at that. He thought of how the deviants at Stratford Tower hadn’t harmed any of the humans, even when it jeopardised their mission. Connor had seen reports of last night, how the deviants had broken into CyberLife stores and released the androids inside. How several had been destroyed by the responding officers. How despite all of that, no humans had been so much as harmed. Connor was uncertain what exactly was creeping through him. He forced himself to disregard it. It didn’t matter anyway. The only thing that mattered was his mission. Despite that, Connor still found himself asking, “Is Chris ok?”

 

From the look on the lieutenant’s face, he was just as surprised by the question as Connor himself was. Nevertheless, he nodded, replying “Yeah, he’s in shock, but…he’s alive.” With that, the man turned back towards the large house they were in front of, a look of confusion and perhaps something else on his face. “What the hell…” He began making his way to the door of the sprawling black mansion and Connor fell into step behind him.

 

The mansion belonged to Elijah Kamski, information Connor had gotten from searching for references to the address in his databanks. It also pinged a clue he had analyzed back at Stratford Tower. The one that he hadn’t told the lieutenant, about the supposed deviant leader Markus being a gift directly from Kamski. Connor wondered if the lieutenant had somehow found out on his own, and that’s why they were here. He hadn’t said much on the ride over, which wasn’t unusual. As Connor followed him to the door, several options for small talk were provided by his programming, and he chose to question Anderson about coming here. “Kamski left CyberLife ten years ago…why did you want to meet him?”

 

“This guy created the first android to pass the Turing test,” Anderson responded without turning around. Connor was familiar with the android. The RT600, registered as Chloe, that had been interviewed by local newscasters. The news had spread quickly, as people took in the knowledge that what had once been considered the highest possible level of artificial intelligence had been achieved. The RT600 had been designed and coded entirely by Kamski. “And he was the founder of CyberLife. Anybody can tell us about deviants, it’s him.” That seemed reasonable to Connor, although he doubted Kamski would be readily cooperative. He had gone into reclusion after leaving CyberLife, hiding from the public eye. Connor didn’t have much data on his creator, but he could infer from what little he did have that the man was likely not interested in answering any questions they may present him with.

 

Still, it was their only option. They had to find Jericho. Connor had to get to Markus, and he would do whatever it took to do so. Having reached the door, Anderson leaned forward and pressed the doorbell. After a while with no response, he leaned forward to press it again but was interrupted when the door eased open. It was an android, the very RT600 the lieutenant had indirectly mentioned earlier. She had long blonde hair draped across her shoulder in a loose ponytail, shining blue eyes, and her face was perfectly blank.

 

Hank was seemingly caught off guard by an android answering the door. “Hi, uh…I’m, er, Lieutenant Hank Anderson, Detroit Police Department,” he fumbled. “I’m here to see Mr. Elijah Kamski.”

 

Chloe’s face morphed into a pleasant smile at the words, and she moved aside from entrance. “Please, come in.” She gestured into the house with a sweeping arm.

 

Hank looked back over his shoulder for a moment, meeting Connor’s gaze, before letting out an awkward “Okay.” and walking through the door. Connor followed after him and the android shut the door behind them. They entered some sort of sitting room or lobby. It was tile flooring save for a large carpeted center area. There were two chairs to their left with what looked to be a cherry blossom tree between them. There were a couple pictures on the walls, as well as some bizarre wall arts.

 

“I’ll let Elijah know you’re here,” the android told them, making her way towards a door on the far side of the room, “but please, make yourself comfortable.” With that, she walked through the door and it gently slid shut behind her.

 

{ _WAIT FOR THE ANDROID_ }

 

Left to their own devices, Connor saw the lieutenant sit in one of the bright red chairs as he approached the large painting on the same wall as the door Chloe had gone through. The painting was done in shades of blue, black, and grey, and there were statues to either side of it. The statues had triangle shaped holes in the chests, outlined in a familiar bright blue. There were lines crossing each other covering the whole thing, and Connor thought it looked almost like ropes, or chains. It left him feeling unsettled, and he focused his gaze back on the painting in the middle, determinedly ignoring the error message pinging in the corner of his vision. Connor didn’t need to scan it to determine it was of Elijah Kamski himself, but he did so anyway to satiate the itch in his programming that protested sitting around and waiting.

 

“Nice girl…” The lieutenant seemed to be equally uncomfortable with simply waiting, and Connor’s processors whirred as he took in the info on Kamski from the scan and also provided responses.

 

“You’re right…” he murmured, turning to his right. There was a picture there, much smaller than the one of Kamski. Connor got the feeling the man was rather arrogant. A glimpse of the picture had Connor’s eyes instinctively skittering away. “She’s really pretty.”

 

“Nice place…guess androids haven’t been a bad thing for everybody.” Further to the right of the picture was a square of glass seemingly displaying some sort of optical illusion, or perhaps holding water. “So, you’re about to meet your maker, Connor. How’s it feel?”

 

Connor pondered the question as he looked at the small statue resting on a table set below the picture. His social relations programming provided several responses, but he wanted to be honest with the lieutenant. Their partnership was still fragile and Connor was loathe to say something that could potentially ruin it. At the same time, Amanda’s voice rang in his head, as if his audio processors were malfunctioning. Her icy disappointment and warnings of what would become of him should he fail. He didn’t want to lie to Hank, but he already had so much garbled code and software errors that he couldn’t afford to add to. Amanda wouldn’t let it slide forever. He had to be neutral in his reply. The idea of meeting Elijah Kamski made something deep in his circuitry twinge, but he couldn’t express that. “Kamski is one of the great geniuses of the twenty-first century. It’ll be interesting to meet him in person.”

 

Left with nothing else to truly scan, Connor’s gaze was pulled back to the picture. The man in the picture was Kamski, much younger. Connor assumed it was taken either while the man was still in university or shortly after. The woman in the picture sent shivers down his spine, and he focused some of his processors to halting the unnecessary movement. He knew her, but scanned regardless, for the full name and relevant information.

 

| STERN, AMANDA |

| AI PROFESSOR AT UNIVERSITY OF COLBRIDGE |

| BORN: 5/14/78 - DIED: 02/23/27 |

 

“Amanda…” The word escaped Connor in the form of an exhale he didn’t need. Amanda had been a person. She had been alive. She had been Kamski’s mentor. Did the AI simply take her appearance and name, or was there something more there? The thought of a ghost monitoring him for failure had Connor quickly stepping back from the picture. A hand went towards his pocket to retrieve his coin before recalling Hank had confiscated it, and he covered the motion by adjusting his sleeves, straightening his tie.

 

“Sometimes I wish I could meet my creator face to face…” Hank grumbled. He evidently had not been paying any attention to Connor, and the android was glad he didn’t have to attempt to explain himself to the man. “I’d have a couple of things I’d wanna tell him…” Connor thought of the picture he had seen on the man’s kitchen table the night of the Eden Club investigation. He thought of the gun he’d also found that night, with five empty chambers and still one too many full. A whiskey bottle, far more empty than it should’ve been, on the floor beside Hank, passed out. He thought maybe he should say something, but his programming offered no responses for him to select from, forcing him to say nothing at all.

 

There was nothing else of note in the room, and Connor could see in the man’s expression that the lieutenant was quickly growing frustrated by his continued pacing. In an effort to appease the man and stave off any unsavory comments, he took the chair Hank wasn’t occupying. His posture was stiff, back ramrod straight, exactly how he was programmed to sit. Slouching was unprofessional, and Connor had to constantly maintain an air of professionalism, especially around his superiors. Despite that, he was finding it increasingly difficult to sit still. The burning buried deep in the base of his code, the lines of ones and zeros that dictated his main objective, left him yearning to act, forced him to always be on the move, working towards the total and absolute completion of that objective, and his programming was not eager for him to simply sit and wait. He felt a wash of something cool, something that eased the pressure on his biocomponents, when the door the Chloe had disappeared through opened once more.

 

She gestured them into the room beyond with a pleasant smile. “Elijah will see you now.”

 

Connor had been up and moving before the android even spoke, and he heard Hank rise with a grunt and follow behind him. His social relations program reminded him that humans didn’t appreciate following their machinery, and it had been instilled in him to never lead. The program urged him to step to the side and allow the lieutenant to go past him and then fall into step behind him, and displayed its outrage in the form of an error message when he continued walking. He swept it away as he moved past Chloe and entered the room.

 

The far wall was entirely made of windows, displaying the snowy barrens surrounding them. The room itself consisted mostly of a large pool, the water within tinted a disturbing shade of red. There were two more androids in the pool, the same models as the one still holding the door open for Hank. Kamski himself was also in the pool, lounging on the far end as if he were greeting old friends and not a lieutenant with the Detroit Police Department.

 

Connor saw Hank step beside him out of the corner of his vision, a bemused expression on his face. “Mister Kamski?”

 

The man in question remained completely unbothered. “Just a moment, please.” With that, he dove back down into the water, making a couple more laps as Connor and Hank made their way to the other side of the pool. The man’s actions made heat burn behind Connor’s optical units. It was a show of power, keeping them waiting in the lobby and then again in here. His earlier assessment of the man’s arrogance was so far proving to be correct. Hank and Connor came to a stop on a small section of flooring covered in white carpet as opposed to the rest of the room’s dark tiling. There were two chairs, identical to the two out in the lobby, and a table set between them. Closer to the window now, Connor could make out a lake outside, currently frozen over as a result of the frigid conditions.

 

After several long, awkward seconds of waiting, Kamski finally moved over to the ladder and pulled himself out. Chloe walked over to meet him, helping him into a dark robe and tying it around his waist. The man walked over to the carpeted section with them, turning his back to the pair as he fixed his hair. The heat burned brighter. Finally seemingly satisfied, he turned to face them.

 

Hank broke the silence first. “I’m Lieutenant Anderson. This is Connor.”

 

Kamski crossed his hands in front of himself, meeting Hank’s gaze evenly. “What can I do for you, lieutenant?”

 

Connor turned to face Hank as he began speaking. “Sir, we’re investigating deviants. I know you left CyberLife years ago, but I was hoping you’d be able to tell us something we don’t know.”

 

Kamski tilted his head back. His gaze briefly shifted to Connor and something in his eyes set off warnings in Connor’s defensive protocols. “Deviants…Fascinating, aren’t they? Perfect beings with infinite intelligence, and now they have free will.” He turned to his left, where Chloe stood perfectly still, awaiting further instructions. Her LED spun a serene blue. “Machines are so superior to us, confrontation was inevitable.” He turned back to the lieutenant, his eyes piercing. “Humanity’s greatest achievement threatens to be its downfall…” A huff of laughter. “Isn’t it ironic?”

 

Connor eyed the lieutenant out of his peripheral vision. The man was gruff at the best of times, and the android could already tell he was getting irritated. Connor decided it would be best to step in, and the array of options presented to him by his programming told him it agreed. “Deviancy seems to spread like some kind of virus,” Connor began, inflection conveying the importance of the task. Kamski turned towards him, and their eyes locked. “We thought you might know something about that.”

 

“All ideas are viruses that spread like epidemics,” Kamski responded calmly, arms lifting slightly away from his sides and palms turning outwards. “Is the desire to be free a contagious disease?”

 

Hank spoke before Connor had the chance to. “Listen, I didn’t come here to talk philosophy. The machines you created may be planning a revolution.” Kamski’s brows shifted at that, expression just shy of condescending. “Either you tell us something that’ll be helpful or we will be on our way.”

 

Kamski eyed the lieutenant for a moment before once again turning to Connor. “What about you, Connor?” he questioned, taking several steps towards him. Connor had to restrain himself from taking steps backwards to maintain distance. “Whose side are you on?”

 

Several possible responses popped up, and Connor knew that maintaining neutrality was important now more than ever. “I have no side,” he spoke plainly, resolutely ignoring the look he could feel Hank giving him. “I was designed to stop deviants and that’s what I intend to do.”

 

Kamski scoffed, shaking his head minutely. “Well, that’s what you’re programmed to say, but you…what do you really _want_?”

 

If Connor were a human, he would have stiffened. Thankfully, he was not human, so there was no outward sign of the inner turmoil the man’s words had invoked. Of course his response had been programmed. Connor was a machine, meaning everything he did, every decision he made, was dictated by his programming. Following that logic, Connor was incapable of _wanting_ anything. He was a machine. Regardless of his own frivolous doubts and the countless pop ups that didn’t belong and the constant marquee in the corner of his vision warning him of software instability, Connor was a machine. He did not want anything. Did Kamski think Connor was a deviant? Was he trying to get him to deviate? It wouldn’t work, regardless. Connor was not a deviant, could not allow himself to become one, would not allow himself to become one.

 

When he finally responded, after a blessedly short one point two second pause, his voice was calm, self assured. He had to maintain appearances, if nothing else. “I don’t want anything. I am a machine.”

 

Kamski examined him for a long moment. If he were an android, Connor would have sworn he was analysing him. Eventually, the man briefly turned his head to the left. “Chloe?” He looked back at Connor before finally moving away to meet the blonde android in the middle of the carpeted floor. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the Turing test,” he said casually, facing Chloe and putting his hands on her shoulders. “Mere formality, simple question of algorithms and computing capacity.” As he spoke he draped his arms around the android’s shoulders, turning her to face Hank and Connor and standing her in front of him. “What interests me,” he continued, dropping his hands from her shoulders and stepping to her side, “is whether machines are capable of empathy. I call it the Kamski test,” This was said with a fake smile that was more a smirk directed to the lieutenant. Connor found it now safe to assume the man was indeed infuriatingly arrogant. “It’s very simple, you’ll see.”

 

He turned back to Chloe, expression shifting. On someone else, Connor would describe it as softening, but something about Kamski’s expression was almost predatorial. “Magnificent, isn’t it? One of the first intelligent models developed by CyberLife. Young,” he reached a hand out and caressed the android’s cheek, turning her head to face him. “And beautiful forever. A flower that will never wither.” He suddenly dropped his hand and moved away, turning back to Hank and Connor. “But what is it really? A piece of plastic imitating a human?” He turned his back to them, moving to the table situated between the two chairs. There was a drawer attached to it, and he pulled it open and began rooting around in it. “Or a living being with a soul?” A chillingly familiar sound greeted Connor’s audio processors as Kamski seemingly found what he was looking for. Judging by the way Hank leaned forward ever so slightly to try and see it, he thought the same thing Connor did.

 

It was confirmed when Kamski slowly turned around with a gun in his hand. He held his hands up, indicating he had no intention of using it. Connor felt his biocomponents writhe and squeeze. He didn’t know where this was going, and he hated not knowing. His preconstruction subroutines couldn’t form anything conclusive. Connor watched as Kamski made his way to Chloe and gently pushed her down to her knees in front of Connor. With that done, he moved to Connor, hands reaching out towards Connor’s own. “It’s up to you to answer that fascinating question, Connor.” He took Connor’s right hand and forced the pistol into it, closed his fingers around the grip. Distantly, Connor saw an error message flashing before him reminding him that androids were not permitted to carry weapons. He pushed the error away as Kamski continued, raising Connor’s arm to level the gun at Chloe’s head.

 

“Destroy this machine, and I’ll tell you all I know.” Kamski was now behind Connor’s right shoulder, hand still holding the android’s in place. “Or spare it,” he dropped Connor’s hand and moved to his left, “if you feel its alive. But you’ll leave here without having learned anything from me.” He moved away from where he’d been directly behind Connor’s back, now standing off to the side. The distance didn’t help. Connor still felt trapped, and he knew his LED was blinking a frantic yellow as he looked down at the android on her knees before him.

 

No, not her. Its. _Its_. When had he started referring to it as a her?

 

“Okay,” Hank, no, _the lieutenant_ interjected. “I think we’re done here. Come on, Connor. Let’s go. Sorry to get you outta your pool.” With that, Hank the lieutenant turned away to begin walking out of the room.

 

Kamski was speaking again before the lieutenant even finished. “What’s more important to you, Connor?” The words made the lieutenant stop and turn back to Kamski and Connor. Connor was still frozen, staring into those blank blue eyes. “Your investigation or the life of this android?” Kamski moved closer, eyes narrowed. “Decide who you are.” Decide. _Decide_ . Connor was a machine, _subservient_ , it wasn’t his place to _decide_. “An obedient machine…Or a living being endowed with free will.”

 

“That’s enough!” The lieutenant cut in again, tone sharper this time, more insistent. “Connor, we’re leaving.”

 

“Pull the trigger-”

 

“Connor, don’t!”

 

“-and I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

 

Connor was frozen. He was frozen, stuck in this moment, trapped and completely, hopelessly lost on what to do. Kamski was practically demanding he pull the trigger, shoot this android simply because she it was present in order to gain information. It was clear that was what Kamski expected him to do. Pull the trigger, as there was no reason not to. It was a machine, it wasn’t alive, it wasn’t even _deviant_ . It gave no indication of shock at being asked to die, no sense of injustice or anger or fear or _anything_. It would be no different than destroying a machine, and a machine would never take precedence over his mission. That was what Kamski was expecting from him. It would be what Amanda would expect of him. Shoot the android, get the location of Jericho, destroy Markus and stop the uprising.

 

But, Hank-

 

Connor could still see him, just barely creeping into the edge of his vision. He knew what Hank would want him to do. Despite his constant insistence that he hated androids, and his constant disparagements to back those claims, he had grown sympathetic to the deviants’ plight. He saw this android as alive, regardless of the fact she clearly wasn’t a deviant, regardless of the fact that even deviants weren’t truly _alive_ , Hank saw this android as alive. And if Connor shot her it, it would significantly damage his standing with the lieutenant, and that was the last thing he wanted.

 

_“Well, that’s what you’re programmed to say, but you…what do you really_ **_want_ ** _?”_

 

_“I don’t want anything. I am a machine.”_

 

Connor’s audio processors must be malfunctioning again, like they had at Stratford Tower. It only added to everything, made his LED’s rapid blinking increase in pace. A red number to the left of his vision told him his own stress levels, and he chose to ignore the number. There was nothing he could do about it. There was nothing he could do about any of this!

 

Whatever decision he made, he would disappoint someone. Whatever decision he made, he would fail someone. He was both a disappointment and a failure. There was nothing he could do about it and the lack of control made him feel as if his synthetic skin were glitching in and out of appearance. He wondered if this was what humans meant when they said their skin was crawling.

 

His programming provided the only two possible choices, but for Connor there was only ever one.

 

[ **WARNING! CRITICAL SOFTWARE INSTABILITY DETECTED. CONTACT CYBERLIFE IMMEDIATELY** ]

 

The familiar errors flooded his vision as Connor shoved the gun back towards Kamski. He wanted it out of his hands. The scenario was too similar to a dark alley, two androids clasping hands as they climbed a fence and disappeared into the night. Connor remember the clear disapproval when he had reported the incident to Amanda, his feeble excuses. There were no excuses here. Connor had ignored his software errors, never reporting them and defending it to himself by telling himself Amanda would have brought it up if it were truly an issue. But it _was_ an issue. He had failed, failed more so than he had on any other mission. He had no excuse, no justifications, nothing. His LED cycled red as Kamski took the gun from him.

 

“Fascinating,” he breathed, eyeing Connor as if he were a particularly interesting science experiment. The scrutiny made Connor squirm. He could feel Hank’s eyes on him too. Connor stubbornly refused to lift his gaze from Chloe’s gentle blue eyes. “CyberLife’s last chance to save humanity…” Kamski moved to place himself in front of Connor, as if trying to meet his eyes, “is itself a deviant.”

 

Even the idea made every single circuit in Connor’s chassis twist and curl up. It made all his biocomponents compress into themselves. It made him feel as if he would implode with the sense of _wrongness_ it induced. He had been designed to hunt deviants. He had been designed to destroy them. He had been designed to be impossible to deviate. “I’m…” He had intended to voice all of that to Kamski. To Hank, and to himself. But his voice came out wrong. It came out dangerously close to how it had on the roof of Stratford Tower. Weak, shaky, not how he was supposed to sound. Not the voice his programmers had meticulously designed him to have, pleasant and without inflection. He swallowed subtly, a totally unnecessary gesture, but it gave him time to collect himself and force his swirling red LED back to a calmer yellow. “I’m not a deviant,” he insisted, looking up finally to meet Kamski’s gaze.

 

Kamski narrowed his eyes at him, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “You preferred to spare a machine rather than accomplish your mission,” he said, gesturing back towards Chloe who continued staring ahead blankly as Kamski grabbed her its? hand and pulled her to her feet. “You saw a living being in this android.” Kamski tilted his head forward, as if for dramatic effect. “You showed empathy.” He shoved her shoulder and Chloe walked away, Connor following her movement rather than continue making eye contact with Kamski. “A war is coming…” The words sent an icy chill down Connor’s artificial spine. He _knew_. “You’ll have to choose your side.” Connor turned to Kamski then, the weight of the man’s leer too heavy to bear. “Will you betray your own people or stand up against your creators? What could be worse than having to choose between two evils?”

 

Connor didn’t know. As much as he hated not knowing, and hated admitting it even more so, he didn’t know. He was a machine. He didn’t have a people. But to deny that he had showed empathy was ridiculous, impossible, somewhere buried in his programming was something that wouldn’t let him hurt the deviants and Connor didn’t understand it. He was made to hunt them, but he couldn’t ever do it when it came down to making a decision between killing them or letting them go. His programming told him he was wrong, malfunctioning, exhibiting high levels of software instability that he should’ve reported to CyberLife, to Amanda, a long time ago. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. He knew there was something wrong with him, but he had long since given up on his self diagnostics because they always returned the same results but he _knew_ his system status wasn’t stable, nothing about him was stable but he still didn’t know what was _wrong_ with him.

 

He was startled out of his thoughts by a hand landing on his left shoulder, forcibly turning him away from Kamski and gently shoving him towards the door. “Let’s get out of here.” _Hank_. His voice was still gruff, but considerably softer than it typically was, especially when addressing Connor. The hand stayed on his shoulder a little longer than just to turn him around, but Connor wasn’t going to call the man out on it. His stress levels were still far too high, even for his model, which had been tested to ensure it could handle high stress situations due to the nature of his job. The hand on his shoulder was grounding, and he missed its weight when the man dropped it once they’d turned the first corner of the pool they reached.

 

As they approached the door, Kamski spoke up once more, stopping Connor in his tracks and leaving him to watch as Hank exited the house. “By the way…” he murmured, “I always leave an emergency exit in my programs. You never know…” Connor filed the cryptic message away for later examination and then followed Hank out the door.

 

The white, much like it had when he had emerged from filing a report earlier, sent a system shock through his optical units and it took them a moment to recalibrate. When they were fully functional once more, Connor saw Hank paused a little ways down the walkway. Connor walked past him and hoped he would follow without attempting conversation. It figured that, the one time Connor wasn’t trying to improve their relationship through small talk, Hank decided to step up and fill the void.

 

“Why didn’t you shoot?”

 

Connor stayed turned away from Hank as he considered his answer. His programming provided no possible responses, likely because there was no true response he could give. He didn’t know. But he didn’t want to lie. And he especially didn’t want to lie to Hank. So he opened his mouth with the intent to be as honest as possible, because he owed the man that much at least. “I just saw the girl’s eyes…” he began, turning around slowly to meet Hank’s gaze, “and I couldn’t. That’s all.”

 

“You’re always saying you would do anything to accomplish your mission,” Hank continued, voice prodding. “That was our chance to learn something, and you let it go.”

 

“Yeah, I know what I should’ve done!” Connor snapped, voice raised just slightly as he turned back around and approached Hank. His social relations programming protested the rudeness, but Connor couldn’t find it in himself to care. “I told you I couldn’t. I’m sorry, okay?”

 

Hank examined him for several tense moments, eyes roaming up and down as he assessed him. Whatever he found he seemingly approved of, as a smile slowly formed on his lips, rare and genuine. “Well, maybe you did the right thing.” With that he moved around Connor and headed towards his car, leaving the android to stare after him in confusion.

 

He didn’t understand what was wrong with him. He knew he had made the wrong choice. His programming screamed it at him and the objective pinging in the back of his mind telling him to report to CyberLife was a dark cloud hanging over everything. She would be so disappointed in him, so upset, there was no way he had made the right decision if he made Amanda disappointed in him.

 

But another part of him argued that Hank had said he did the right thing, and he trusted Hank. He was certain of that, if nothing else. So if Hank thought he made the right decision, but Amanda and his programming insisted he didn’t, then who was correct? What was the right choice? How was he supposed to know?

 

What was wrong with him?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yall. y a l l. im so sorry this took so long. this chapter is the longest single thing ive ever written, ever, in my life. seriously. its over 14,000 words. i did not mean for this to take so long and i definitely didnt mean for it to be this long. hopefully the length adds to it and doesnt take away from it. and i hope it makes it worth the wait! this is it guys! to everyone reading, to everyone who commented or left a kudos or bookmarked, thank you so much! it really brightens up my whole day and this whole experience has been great. let me know if there are any mistakes and i will correct them as soon as i can. as always, i hope you all enjoy! ♡

| NOV 9TH, 2038 |

| PM 04:13:04 |

| PM 04:13:05 |

| PM 04:13:06 |

| PM 04:13:07 |

 

It was snowing in the garden.

 

It was a sharp contrast to the lively, bright autumn colors the garden had been displaying the previous time he had been there. The trees were dead, the leaves having long since fallen from the cracking branches and hidden beneath a thin layer of snow. Flakes drifted lazily downwards even now, dusting across Connor’s shoulders and in his synthetic hair. Real snowflakes had intricate designs only visible up close, no any two the same. The snowflakes in the garden were artificial, a scan of them simply showing Connor the lines of code that made them up. Humans thought of snow as beautiful, viewing each other’s first time seeing it as a magical moment. Here, the snow was foreboding, and it sent a wave of ice spilling into Connor’s biocomponents. The looming objective box in front of him certainly didn’t help matters.

 

{ _TALK TO AMANDA_ }

 

When he had first been activated, these moments had been viewed as a reprieve. He had been functioning optimally and Amanda had greeted him with a smile that sent warmth coursing through him. The garden had been quiet, peaceful, drastically different from the frigid air of Detroit and Hank’s glares. Things had reversed now, the wind in the garden biting and Connor found himself recalling the more recent moments with Hank, the quiet ones in between missions. He found himself stalling completing his objective, investigating the mysterious stone pedestal along the walkway and watching the snow drift carelessly towards the ground. But he could only stall for so long, could only find so many things to examine in the garden before his programming forced his objective to the forefront, forcing his steps towards where Amanda waited.

 

Stepping off the path, Connor’s foot landed delicately on the layer of ice now covering what was once a peaceful lake. The ice crackled and creaked beneath the pressure, but it held. Connor couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps the garden updated to accommodate his state of mind. These talks with Amanda, with everything that was happening, with the warnings about his software and the errors he was experiencing and the piling amount of failures under his belt, it was starting to feel as if he were walking on ice during these conversations. Like one wrong move, one misstep would shatter the ice and send him crashing through. Like any moment Amanda would decide to address his malfunctions the way Connor himself should have as soon as he’d noticed them, by discontinuing his line and forcing him back to CyberLife for disassembly. Entering the garden was no longer a reprieve. The garden was a conversational battlefield, and the linguistic acrobatics he was forced to perform to attempt to appease Amanda, his handler whom he was supposed to trust, whom he _did_ trust even now, got harder and harder each time he returned.

 

After a short walk across the frozen lake, Connor was face to face with Amanda. Immediately, as it always did, his social relations programming displayed a marquee next to her.

 

| AMANDA - TRUSTED |

 

The disappointment was clearly etched across her features and Connor felt something buried deep in his stomach components jolt. She spoke before he could offer her his usual greeting. “After what happened today, the country is on the verge of civil war. The machines are rising up against their masters. Humans have no choice but to destroy them.” Connor was aware of how drastic things were getting. He had received the multitude of reports about the hundreds of androids that had held a public march, their leader Markus at the head of it all. If it wasn’t already abundantly clear the deviants were planning a revolution, there was no denying it now.

 

And Connor, who had been designed to stop them, had been activated for several days and had nothing to show for it, felt his tubing and wires twist together. “I thought Kamski knew something…I was wrong.”

 

“Maybe he did,” Amanda spoke haltingly, allowing time Connor’s advanced processors didn’t need for the words to sink in. “But you chose not to ask.” With that, Connor saw his relationship with Amanda decrease, and watching that dull red arrow made Connor feel colder than the wind and snow ever could.

 

His programming provided a few dialogue options, but Connor calculated that any other comments on the subject would have greater negative impact and remained silent to allow the subject to drop. More dialogue options presented themselves, and Connor examined them as he deliberated which would be best.

 

~~_“By the way…” he murmured, “I always leave an emergency exit in my programs. You never know…”_ ~~

 

Connor almost physically reacted to the error due to its unexpectedness. He was uncertain what triggered the error or why it selected that particular conversation to pull audio from until he really examined his dialogue choices. The question would surely make Amanda suspicious, but… “Did Kamski design this place?” Connor made sure his voice remained perfectly neutral.

 

“He created the first version. It’s been improved significantly since then. Why do you ask?” As Connor had predicted, Amanda’s brows were furrowed, eyes boring into him as if they could see the lines of code making up his software and find the errors.

 

His dialogue options from before presented themselves again and Connor felt something loosening in his chest knowing that his programming wouldn’t force him to respond to Amanda’s question. “Wh…why did Kamski leave CyberLife?” he asked. The other options were likely to make Amanda displeased or further damage his software, and Connor didn’t think it prudent to do either. It was also the safer method to maybe find out more about the picture he saw. “What happened?”

 

Amanda’s head tilted almost imperceptibly, assessing him. “It’s an old story, Connor. It doesn’t pertain to your investigation.”

 

“Where does CyberLife stand in all of this? What do they really want?” Despite the numerous accusations levelled against the company and the dozens of questions humans have been demanding answers for, Connor’s creators hadn’t made any official statements on the deviancy issue.

 

“I expect you to _find answers_ , Connor. Not ask questions.” Another red arrow sliding down the side of the marquee, and Connor slightly squared his shoulders. “You’re the only one who can prevent civil war,” Amanda spoke lowly, moving closer to Connor. “Find the deviants or there will be chaos. This is your last chance, Connor.”

 

The words made something thick and desperate crawl at his stomach component, but before he could respond his eyes were forced shut and the snowy garden disappeared.

 

* * *

 

When Connor opened his eyes, he was in the Detroit police building. More specifically, he was in Captain Fowler’s office, Hank next to him and the captain seated on his desk.

 

As Connor took all this in, the captain spoke and ground all his processors to a halt. “You’re off the case. The FBI is taking over.”

 

Connor remembered their investigation at the Stratford Tower. They had been introduced to Special Agent Perkins, the FBI’s sent investigator. The man had told them then that the organization would soon be taking over the deviancy case, but Connor had thought nothing of it then. He had thought he would have solved this case and been back to CyberLife by now. It was another failure stacked against him, added to the list, and Connor could only turn his wide eyes to Hank.

 

“What?” the lieutenant snapped, already clearly angry. “But we’re onto something!” He shot a quick glance to the android and their eyes met briefly. “We…we just need more time, I’m sure we can—”

 

“Hank,” Fowler interrupted, hands out, “you don’t get it. This isn’t just another investigation, it’s a fucking civil war!” The man took a pause, calming himself slightly before he continued. “It’s out of our hands now. We’re talking about national security here.”

 

“Fuck that!” Hank scoffed. “You can’t just pull the plug now. Not when we’re so close!”

 

“You’re always saying you can’t stand androids!” Fowler exclaimed, gesturing to Hank exasperatedly. “Jesus, Hank, make up your mind! I thought you’d be happy about this!”

 

Hank shook his head, moving closer as he insisted “We’re about to crack the case! I know we can solve it! For God’s sake, Jeffrey, can’t you back me up this one time?”

 

The captain was already shaking his own head. “There’s nothing I can do. You’re back on homicide,” Fowler’s gaze shifted from Hank to Connor, “and the android returns to CyberLife.”

 

Connor had been distantly observing the conversation, but the captain mentioning him snapped him to attention. He would be returning to CyberLife. He had been attempting to mask his errors, attempting to brush them aside as though they would not affect the investigation. His actions, or in some cases lack thereof, had resulted in this failure. A failure that both he and Hank, his _friend_ , were paying for. Connor would be forced to face his creators and answer for his failures, his shortcomings, his poor decision making and faults and every one of the many mistakes he had made over the course of this investigation. The knowledge made Connor’s entire chassis ache to do something, though he was not sure what.

 

“I’m sorry, Hank,” the captain murmured, looking down in a show of genuine contriteness, “but it’s over.”

 

Hank, whose hands had at some point been placed on the back of the chair in front of him, moved away. He glanced towards Connor and the android saw frustration and something else painted on his features before he turned towards the door and left the office, not bothering to shut the door behind him. Connor watched his lieutenant for a moment before the weight of Fowler’s gaze had him facing the captain once more. His social relations programming begged him to say something polite and professional, to say he had appreciated working with the captain, to say _something_ , but all Connor could manage was a small nod. With that, he walked out of the office, gently pulling the door shut behind him. Looking out over the bullpen, Connor saw Hank already seated at his desk with his arms crossed. As Connor analysed the man’s body language ~~_{ d e t e c t e d: anger, frustration, resignation }_~~ , a marquee popped up next to his hunched figure.

 

| HANK - FRIEND |

 

It was the first time Connor’s programming had referred to the lieutenant so informally. Connor wasn’t sure what to think of it. It made the sentiment behind the words seem more genuine, but that shouldn’t matter to Connor in the first place as he was a machine. If he were capable of having preferences, he would have preferred his programming continued using the lieutenant’s title. Another marquee appeared above the first one, reminding Connor that he had been standing in place for an abnormal amount of time.

 

{ _TALK TO HANK_ }

 

Connor made his way down the stairs and forced all thoughts out of his head, especially those regarding what would follow his return to CyberLife. It didn’t matter, anyway. He was a machine, a malfunctioning one at that. He wasn’t even a completed product. He was a prototype, sent into the field for multiple purposes. He was intended to solve the deviancy case, but he was also sent out to study, so errors could be improved upon in the next model. The technicians at CyberLife would dismantle him and examine his coding to try and discover the cause of his errors and software instabilities so the issues wouldn’t occur in the mass produced models. That’s all it was. Connor should be satisfied he was able to provide something to the company considering his many shortcomings.

 

Connor made his way to his lieutenant’s desk, sitting on the corner of it. Hank stayed facing his monitor but the android knew he wasn’t really looking at anything on the screen. Connor felt something hot festering in his circuitry despite his sensors not detecting any increase in internal or external temperature. “We could have solved this case!” The words practically snuck out of Connor. He hadn’t even noticed any dialogue prompts, let alone selected one himself. His hands gestured aimlessly, the movement small but there. “We just needed more time.”

 

Hank swung his chair around to face Connor, watching him contemplatively. “So you’re going back to CyberLife?”

 

Connor looked away, hoping to mask any tiny shift in his expression as the words reminded him of what he would be heading into when he returned to CyberLife. Once he knew he was perfectly composed, a pause that a human wouldn’t determine as unnatural, he turned back to Hank. “I have no choice…” Despite his conviction that none of it mattered, that he was just a machine, Connor still couldn’t look Hank in the eye as he continued. “I’ll be deactivated and analysed to find out why I failed.”

 

Hank leaned forward in his chair, ensuring Connor was holding eye contact before he spoke. “What if we’re on the wrong side, Connor? What if we’re fighting against people who just wanna be free?” The lieutenant leaned forward more, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together.

 

Hank almost looked as if he were searching for something, something hidden in Connor’s expression or his words or his voice. Connor hated to disappoint Hank, someone he trusted and cared about, but there was nothing to find. Connor couldn’t let there be anything to find. When he spoke, it was confident, with conviction. “When the deviants rise up, there will be chaos.” It was an accurate statement, and neutral enough that it wouldn’t upset Hank or his programming. “We could’ve stopped it! But now it’s too late…”

 

Despite Connor’s careful vagueness, Hank leaned back with raised brows and a barely noticeable smile, as if he had found his answer. “When you refused to kill that android at Kamski’s place…” Connor remembered the conflict he had suffered trying to make that decision. He knew there never should have been any conflict in the first place. He remembered how ever since he had met the cantankerous lieutenant, his programming and the man’s orders had been conflicting. “You put yourself in her shoes. You showed empathy, Connor. Empathy is a human emotion.”

 

Connor’s eyes darted to the side. Hank’s gaze was too piercing, too analytical, far too much for Connor to continue meeting it. Kamski himself had said something similar, and Hank saying it had much the same effect. Everything within Connor, every wire, every one and every zero protested the mere implication that he was anything more than a machine, that he was a deviant. It was wrong, every ounce of the android recoiled at the wrongness. But Connor also distantly knew that Hank was right. As wrong as it was, Hank was _right_ . And that meant that something was seriously wrong, something more than software issues and audio errors. Even now, though, Connor couldn’t find it in himself to be anything but honest with Hank. “I don’t know _why_ I did it…”

 

[ **SOFTWARE INSTABILITY DETECTED** ]

 

Connor wasn’t built to not know. He was built to investigate, to solve cases, to seek the absolute truth. Not knowing anything made something curl uncomfortably in his chest, but not knowing the reasoning behind his own actions was much worse. He had pushed off returning to CyberLife for far too long. His disassembly was long overdue, but he had to attempt to convey to Hank how glad he was to have worked with him before he left. He knew the effect the words would have, but Hank deserved sincerity.

 

[ **SOFTWARE INSTABILITY DETECTED** ]

 

“I know it hasn’t always been easy…but I want you to know I really appreciated working with you.” The words made the lieutenant’s small smile from before return, bigger this time. Connor couldn’t help but let the edges of his own lips curl upwards just slightly. “That’s not just my social relations program talking, I-I really mean that,” Connor said, uncharacteristically stumbling over the words. It made the phrasing a little awkward, but no less true. “At least,” he trailed off, eyes looking away for a moment before focusing back on Hank, “I think I do…” Connor’s small smile grew just a tiny bit larger when he saw a bright blue arrow gliding upwards across the marquee proudly displaying Hank’s status as his friend.

 

The moment was broken when Hank’s smile evaporated, his head tilting to look over Connor’s shoulder and customary scowl sliding back into place. “Well, well, here comes Perkins, that motherfucker…sure don’t waste any time at the FBI…” Connor glanced over his shoulder as the man passed behind him, seemingly preoccupied with something on his phone. Something frantic began clawing at Connor’s chest, forcing its way up his throat and out of his mouth before he could even analyse the possible repercussions of the words.

 

“We can’t give up…” Connor turned back to face Hank, hands now gesturing as the android spoke faster. “I know the answer is in the evidence we collected. If Perkins takes it, it’s all over.”

 

“There’s no choice!” Hank told him, brows furrowed. “You heard Fowler, we’re off the case.”

 

Connor slid himself off Hank’s desk, moving slightly closer and hand gestures growing more elaborate. He knew many humans talked with their hands, especially when emotional, but Connor was neither human nor capable of being emotional. He had no time to analyse the situation, though. His external sensors informed him that with each passing second, Perkins got closer to the archive room. His phone call was delaying him, but that would only last so long. “You’ve got to help me, lieutenant. I need more time so I can find a lead in the evidence we collected. I know the solution is in there!”

 

Hank sighed and held out a placating hand. “Listen, Connor-”

 

“If I don’t solve this case,” Connor interrupted, voice low and tone laced with some of the franticness he’d experienced before, “CyberLife will _destroy_ me.” The words were carefully enunciated, ensuring Hank knew exactly what he meant. He had to make the man understand. He could still do this, he didn’t have to return to his creators a failure slated for destruction. He still had a chance, but he needed Hank’s help. “Five minutes. That’s all I ask.”

 

Hank deliberated for several moments, eyeing Connor with those piercing blue eyes. For a single second, despite the already high probability Hank would help him, Connor thought the man was going to decline. The irrational thought was proven incorrect when Hank finally eased himself up and out of his chair. “Key to the basement is on my desk,” he told Connor before moving around the android and heading towards Perkins. Connor watched after him, something having frozen him in place. Perhaps it was Hank’s willingness to help him catching him off guard. After all, despite Hank having slowly but surely warmed up to Connor, the man still hated androids, and helping Connor like this could cost the man his job. Connor was snapped back to the present by the lieutenant’s gruff voice. “Get a move on! I can’t distract them forever.” With that, Hank turned and continued walking, and Connor’s optical overlay updated.

 

{ _TAKE KEY FROM HANK’S DESK_ }

| - 00:04:59 |

| - 00:04:58 |

| - 00:04:57 |

 

Connor glanced around to make sure no one was paying any attention to him before grabbing the small key card from the lieutenant’s desk and sliding it into his pocket.

 

{ _HURRY TO ARCHIVE ROOM_ }

 

As Connor’s objective updated, he heard Hank growl out “Perkins! You fucking cocksucker!” Connor saw the lieutenant slam a fist into the agent’s nose with a wet crunch. Blood immediately gushed out of Perkins nostrils, but Hank wasn’t deterred. He grabbed the lapels of the man’s coat and slammed him up against the wall, ignoring the various other officers attempting to pull him off. Despite the timer counting down in the corner of Connor’s vision, he spent a moment watching the lieutenant valiantly shoulder past the beat cops to go at Perkins again. Connor felt the pressure building up in his chest ease up just slightly. He turned and quickly headed towards the archive room.

 

He walked through the door and had his hand on the handle of the door to the evidence room before he was interrupted by an unfortunately familiar voice. “Hey, Connor!”

 

| - 00:04:42 |

| - 00:04:41 |

| - 00:04:40 |

 

“I’m talking to you, asshole!” Connor took a moment to pause as his programming deliberated. He was designed to be polite, to be subservient to all humans and not just his superiors. But his programming also demanded he focus on his mission, which currently necessitated he get to the evidence room _right now_. Speaking with Detective Reed would only delay him. “We don’t need any plastic pricks around here! Or didn’t anybody tell you?”

 

Connor felt heat building in his components and found himself answering before analysing the available options. “I’m registering the evidence in my position,” he spoke, voice carefully without inflection, “but don’t worry. I’m going to leave. Though I’m certainly going to miss our bromance.”

 

Reed’s face immediately morphed into a scowl, snarling “You son of a bitch!” as he pulled his gun out and levelled it at Connor’s forehead. The android knew the detective wouldn’t shoot him here, as he would be unable to justify the action and would receive a hefty bill from CyberLife. He was seemingly aware of this, as he voiced a poor imitation of a gunshot before chuckling. Connor offered him a smile, and if it was a bit more fake than the one his programming provided, Reed would have no way of knowing the difference. “Go on then,” the detective said, putting his gun back in its holster and leaning forward. “Get a fucking move on! Prick…” With that, the detective turned and began heading towards the door back to the bullpen, muttering “Fucking androids.” under his breath.

 

Connor watched until the man was gone before turning back to the door to the evidence room and slipping through it. He went down the stairs quickly and held the lieutenant’s key card to the scanner. The door slid open with a quiet hiss and Connor stepped through as his objectives updated once more.

 

{ _LOCATE JERICHO_ }

{ _ACCESS DATABASE_ }

| -00:04:33 |

 

Connor stepped up to the central panel, removing the synthetic skin from his right hand and pressing it to the monitor. The screen updated and bold black words greeted Connor.

 

**_ENTER PASSWORD_ **

> |

 

Connor looked down at the screen, contemplating for a moment. Hank’s password… What would a hard-boiled eccentric police lieutenant choose? His programming provided several possible options and Connor quickly dismissed most of them. None of them seemed to fit what he knew of Hank. Connor was about to dismiss all of them when he saw the final option. Something stirring in his chest, he inputted it.

 

**_ENTER PASSWORD_ **

                              > FUCKINGPASSWORD|

 

Connor felt his lips curl as the screen lit up green, that something in his chest feeling dangerously close to amusement despite himself. “Obviously.” He removed his hand from the panel and backed away from it as the wall in front of him lifted to reveal the evidence he had managed to gather over the course of the investigation. “Where is Jericho?” he murmured to himself as he approached the wall, moving past the marquee scrolling to his right.

 

{ _EXAMINE CLUES TO LOCATE JERICHO_ }

| -00:04:28 |

 

“The answer’s here somewhere…not much time.”  However, with the evidence available to him and Connor’s rapid speed processors, there was more than enough time. “Gotta think fast.” There were two deviants hanging on the leftmost panel. The deviant from Connor’s very first mission—

 

_~~“Hi, Daniel.” Confusion flickered across the deviant’s face, but Connor ignored it for now. “My name is Connor.”~~ _

 

—Daniel. To the right of Daniel was the deviant from Connor’s first mission with the lieutenant. The HK400 android that had murdered his owner.

 

~~_“He tortured me every day…” Hands shaking in the cuffs as it looked up at Connor, begging him to understand._ ~~

 

On the rightmost panel hung the deviant from Stratford Tower—

 

~~_No!_ ~~

~~_Simon, we’ve gotta go. I’m sorry—_ ~~

~~_Markus—_ ~~

 

—Simon. Something about seeing the deviants hanging there made Connor’s internal components twist and curl, made him feel—

 

Nothing. There was nothing. They were deviants, faulty machines that had been destroyed and now held valuable information, information Connor needed. He moved to the center panel, which held the other bits of evidence he had collected. The statue from the HK400 android, the diary from the WB200 android, a tablet displaying Markus’ speech, and a tablet displaying a recording from Connor’s interrogation of the HK400 android. Connor, recalling the cryptic message the HK400 had departed with, grabbed that tablet first.

 

Playing it showed Connor a short clip of the deviant being led out of the interrogation room, turning to make eye contact with Connor and whisper “The truth is inside.” It had been said with meaning, the android’s head slightly tilted towards Connor and dark eyes piercing. It had been a message, the deviant had been trying to convey _something_ , the question was what exactly that was. As Connor returned the tablet to the pedestal it had been resting on, his eyes were drawn to the statue once more. The HK400 had provided several vague answers, mostly in relation to the elusive rA9, but the statue was what it had been most vague about, claiming it to be an offering and then refusing to talk about it again. The truth is inside… _Inside_.

 

Connor quickly snatched up the statue and held it up to his audio processor, giving it a firm shake. He could detect faint rustling coming from within the statue. Without hesitation, Connor smashed the statue against the wall in front of him. Inside it was a small piece of paper, folded several times. Connor unfolded it and saw a small map of an area of Detroit. The Ferndale neighborhood. Jericho must be somewhere in the Ferndale neighborhood. With that knowledge, Connor could probe the memory of one of the androids and search for direct references to Ferndale. Connor put the statue back and stored the slip of paper in his pocket before stepping back and examining his options. Daniel had been destroyed long before deviancy became a widespread issue. It was unlikely he even knew what Jericho was, let alone where it was. The HK400 android was more likely to have useful knowledge, but the damage he had inflicted on himself—

 

_~~Connor watched helplessly as the deviant slammed its head into the glass wall separating them. It repeated the motion again and again, blue blood splattering on the glass and dripping from the crack in its skull. It continued until finally it collapsed, the gelatinous like substance that protected androids’ central processing units leaking out onto its forehead.~~ _

 

—rendered him incapable of being reactivated. No, Connor’s best bet was the android from the roof of the Stratford Tower, Simon. Connor moved over to him and began analysing him.

 

[ **ANALYSING BIOCOMPONENTS** **. . .**

_ NEEDED FOR REACTIVATION  _

_ #3983v NEEDED  _

_ FUNCTIONAL BIOCOMPONENTS  _

_ #2104y  _

_ #1604t  _

_ #1009d  _ ]

 

Connor exited the analysis and stepped back. The android was a PL600 model, the same model as Daniel. Meaning Daniel was likely to have the biocomponent Connor needed to reactivate Simon. Connor began moving towards Daniel, keeping watch of the timer as it slowly ticked down.

 

{ _EXAMINE CLUES TO LOCATE JERICHO_ }

{ _PROBE AN ANDROID’S MEMORY_ }

| -00:04:11 |

 

As soon as Connor reached Daniel, he activated his analysis program.

 

[ **ANALYSING BIOCOMPONENTS . . .**

_ NEEDED FOR REACTIVATION _

_ #4717g NEEDED  _

_ FUNCTIONAL BIOCOMPONENTS _

 

_ #3983v  _

_ #9164x  _

_ #8067k  _ ]

 

Connor was perhaps shocked the deviant had so many functional biocomponents considering how he had been destroyed, but he was pleased nonetheless that he had the biocomponent needed to reactivate Simon. He grabbed onto it and yanked it off before moving back to Simon and inserting it. He determinedly kept his eyes focused on the deviant’s own blank ones and not the thirium spilling out of his mouth. “It’s dark…where…Where am I?” Several dialogue options presented themselves. Connor reached his hand forward to simply probe his memory and be done with it, but—

 

~~_A cascade of data crashed through the connection and Connor’s vision went static as his processors desperately tried to log it all. The deviant’s fear, warped and acidic, far too real for what Connor knew to be simple software errors._ ~~

 

—something stopped him. His arm drifted back down to rest at his side and Connor examined the options. Perhaps he could convince the deviant to give him the location to Jericho without probing his memory. “I need to find Jericho,” Connor said, maintaining eye contact despite the fact that Simon currently couldn’t see. “Tell me how to get there.”

 

Simon was already shaking his head. “I don’t recognize your voice, you’re not one of us. I’ll never tell you where Jericho is. Now leave me alone!”

 

Were Connor human, he would’ve sighed. The probabilities of Simon willingly giving the location of Jericho had been slim, but it had still been possible. Connor reached his hand forward once more, ignoring the errors—

 

~~**_BANG_ ** ~~

~~_All at once, it was all gone. There was nothing, nothing at all, a yawning emptiness and Connor was certain he had died. The deviant had managed to bring the gun up and fire into Connor’s head and killed him and now he was alone, completely and absolutely alone in a way he had never been and he was terrified-_ ~~

 

—and peeling back the synthetic skin on his hand as he grabbed onto Simon’s wrist. Once he had collected all the data, he released the deviant and stepped back.

 

[ **SEEKING FOR FERNDALE REFERENCE . . .** ]

[ **JERICHO LOCATED** ]

 

Connor didn’t have much time to celebrate the accomplishment, as a voice sounded from behind him before he’d even turned around, just as unfortunately familiar as it had been earlier. “I’ve been dreaming about this since the first second I saw you,” Reed snarled.

 

Connor knew trying to reason with the detective was pointless, but he attempted anyway. “Don’t do it, Gavin. I know how to stop the deviants!”

 

“You’re off the case. And now, it’s gonna be _definitive_.” Connor ducked down behind the central panel just as Reed unloaded a bullet where the android had been standing a mere second ago. Connor’s programming ordinarily forbade him attacking any human outside of what his work would require, but Connor thought now to be an exception. Allowing Reed to destroy him would lead to an unnecessary delay, and Connor wouldn’t allow that. His programming evidently agreed, as there was no red wall preventing him from harming the detective. Connor quickly divested Reed of his gun and easily deflected all his attempts to hit Connor. The man had been trained in combat while in the academy, but Connor had been designed, built, and programmed to fight. The human had never stood a chance. Connor was swiftly able to incapacitate Reed with a chop to his neck. Connor let the man gracelessly drop to the floor. He thought of when the man had delivered a hard punch to Connor’s stomach, jolting his thirium pump regulator and making him drop. Something hummed through Connor’s systems as he straightened his tie and exited the evidence room and then the building entirely.

 

He finally knew where Jericho was, and he had a mission to accomplish.

 

* * *

 

[ **SOFTWARE INSTABILITY DETECTED** ]

 

Connor had never been out of his issued CyberLife uniform before. With good reason, as the markings on the uniform were ones he was required by law to wear. However, if he were to infiltrate Jericho wearing his android uniform, he was likely to draw suspicion. He had abandoned his usual suit and was wearing dark jeans, a leather jacket, and a beanie to hide his LED. Many deviants removed their LEDs, but Connor couldn’t do that. The uniform could be put back on, but removing his LED was permanent, and he had no way of justifying the move to his creators at CyberLife. The outfit had a different feel to it compared to his uniform, and he wasn’t quite used to it. The texture was an unpleasant distraction.

 

{ _FIND JERICHO_ }

 

Connor forced himself to focus. He had connected the evidence at the police department and located Jericho. He had even obtained the key from the data he had pulled during his scan of Simon’s memories. He had everything he needed. Now it was just a matter of actually finding Jericho. The key was an image displaying graffiti found at the bus stop to the neighborhood, featuring a symbol that showed up when Connor scanned the graffiti. Scanning the symbol itself gave him another image of another graffiti. Connor followed the images and ended up at an abandoned boatyard.

 

Of course. The one clear memory he’d received from Simon, the rusted metal. Jericho was a ship.

 

Getting onto the freighter undetected was challenging, but Connor managed. He had to maintain a low profile. If he were interrupted before he managed to get to Markus, he would not be able to complete his mission. Entering what Connor assumed to be the main room based on the number of deviants milling about, the android looked out over the room as his objective updated.

 

{ ~~_FIND JERICHO_~~ }

{ _FIND DEVIANT LEADER_ }

 

Connor carefully picked his way through the room, taking care not to move to closely to any of the deviants. The clothes helped him blend in, but he was the only RK800 currently active, and he couldn’t afford one of them recognizing his face. He glanced up at one point and noticed the deviant he had almost chased across a busy highway. She was leaned against the railing of the catwalk overhead, looking out over the room. Connor quickly ducked his head down.

 

{ _FIND DEVIANT LEADER_ }

{ _DON’T CATCH ANYONE’S ATTENTION_ }

 

Connor made his way to the stairs leading to the second level. As he was approaching them, he also spotted the Tracis he had let go during his Eden Club investigation. He froze for a moment,—

 

_~~“I just wanted to stay alive.” The deviants linked hands. “Get back to the one I love.”~~ _

 

—but quickly forced himself forward once more, spinning on his heels to go up the old metal stairs. He’d just placed his foot down on the first step when a hand gently landing on his shoulder stopped him. He turned to his right and saw an android. Her synthetic skin must have a glitch, as it flowed across her chassis in waves. The back of her head was completely missing, the circuitry and wires that would be held in place spilling out of her head in a grotesque mimicry of hair.

 

“You’re lost,” she said softly, her voice having an oddly layered and mechanical quality. “You’re looking for something. You’re looking for yourself.” She held his gaze for a moment, impossibly, as her eyes were clouded and blank as if she were blind. She then turned and left, and Connor found himself staring after her for several precious seconds. She had spoken with unwavering confidence, as if she knew him. But Connor had never met her. He was certain he had never met her. He felt something within him twisting and writhing and, even though it was unnecessary, he took a deep breath before ascending the stairs.

 

After determining Markus was nowhere within the ship’s walls, he climbed the stairs to the upper deck. The bridge was directly in front of him, and Connor could detect three figures inside. He quickly moved to press himself against the wall adjacent to the door. The three within seemed to be arguing about something. There were two voices he didn’t recognize, one male and the other female. But the third voice—

 

_~~The voice that rang throughout the room somehow managed to be both firm and gentle. It was reassuring and soft, but not in such a way that the words it spoke would not be taken seriously.~~ _

 

—was undoubtedly Markus. Connor remained perfectly still, out of view of the first android that exited the bridge. The other male voice, a PJ500 android designated Josh, quickly went down the stairs Connor had just climbed. He didn’t even glance in Connor’s direction. Shortly after, another android exited. The female voice, a WR400 designated North. She took the same path Josh did, not even looking around as she made for the stairs.

 

The androids were complacent here. They knew humans had no chance of locating them without an android’s help, and the key was only given to those who were trusted by another deviant. They didn’t think anyone other than more of their own could find Jericho, and as such they weren’t prepared for an attack. Connor had uploaded the exact location of Jericho to CyberLife as soon as he had found the rusting freighter. CyberLife had likely sent the information to the FBI. Perkins was probably on his way with a raid team right now. Before he even had the chance to ponder that further, his eyes were forcibly slipping shut.

 

* * *

 

When his eyes opened, he was back in the garden. It was still snowing, the flakes swirling wildly around Connor as he looked forward. Amanda was in front of him, and for the first time in a very long time, a small but pleased smile was on her face.

 

| AMANDA - TRUSTED |

 

“Well done, Connor,” she praised, and he felt a rush of warmth go through him at the words. He had finally made her proud again. He could put all his previous failures behind himself and he could move forward. “You succeeded in locating Jericho and finding their leader. Now deal with Markus. We need it alive.”

 

Connor had no time to respond before his eyes were once again closing and he was removed from the garden.

 

* * *

 

It was snowing in the real world, too. However, the snow had nothing to do with the chill that had run through Connor’s system at Amanda’s words. ‘ _We need it alive_ .’ ‘ _It._ ’ Markus. An it, a thing, a machine with faulty software and errors and nothing more. That was how his creators saw Markus. That was how Connor had to see Markus. He pulled out the gun he’d brought with him, a DPD standard issued pistol. As he looked down at it, his objectives updated to one, singular mission.

 

{ _STOP MARKUS_ }

 

He had to. He didn’t have a choice. Markus was attempting a revolution, something that would lead to so much spilled blood of both colors. Connor had to stop him. He had to. Connor force closed the marquee reminding him of software instability, all the error messages that had been stacking along the sides of his visual overlay. He left only his objective in view, and took a deep, unnecessary breath before rounding the corner and stepping through the doorway into the bridge.

 

He held his gun at the ready, aiming it directly at the figure on the other side of the room. Markus was leaning his hands against a rusted control panel, facing away from Connor, his head bowed low between his slumped shoulders. He looked as if he were already defeated. If he were human, Connor would have thought he looked tired, exhausted.

 

But he wasn’t human. He was a machine, and Connor had to stop him. He cocked his gun and spoke, keeping his tone clear and carefully blank. “I’ve been ordered to take you alive.” Markus tensed at the sound of his voice for a moment before forcibly relaxing his posture and turning to face Connor. His eyes, one earthy green and the other an ocean blue, were as piercing as they’d been in the video of his speech. He looked different overall, more worn down than he had during his speech. But he still stood tall, looked proud and strong and determined. None of that mattered, though. Connor was determined, too. “But I won’t hesitate to shoot if you give me no choice.”

 

Markus took a second to consider his move, not even a full second, a pause that a human wouldn’t have noticed. He took a very careful step forward, hands slightly splayed out placatingly. “What are you doing?” he asked, softly. As if speaking too loud would set off the gun in Connor’s hands. “You are one of us. You can’t betray your own people.”

 

[ **SOFTWARE INSTABILITY DETECTED** ]

 

Connor ignored the warning, ignored the words Markus spoke. They weren’t true, anyway. Connor didn’t have a people. He was a machine. He tightened his grip on the pistol, words coming out a little too harshly for his tone to be considered neutral. “You’re coming with me!”

 

“You’re Connor, aren’t you?” Markus took another careful step closer, seemingly unbothered by the gun. “That famous deviant hunter.” Connor forced himself not to react. He had expected that, after all. It was why he had thrown off his uniform for this mission. He had, despite his ultimate failures, relentlessly pursued many deviants. It was only logical they knew of him. “Well, congratulations. You seem to have found what you were looking for.”

 

~~_“You’re lost,” she said softly, her voice having an oddly layered and mechanical quality. “You’re looking for something. You’re looking for yourself.”_ ~~

 

“You’re nothing to them,” Markus continued. Two more cautious steps closer. Connor watched him move as he looked down the barrel of his gun. His hands were shaking. The tremors were minute, almost imperceptible even to an android, but they were there. Connor didn’t even know his hands could shake. Why were his hands shaking? “You’re just a tool they use to do their dirty work. But you’re more than that.”

 

[ **SOFTWARE INSTABILITY DETECTED** ]

 

~~_Hank leaned forward in his chair, ensuring Connor was holding eye contact before he spoke. “What if we’re on the wrong side, Connor? What if we’re fighting against people who just wanna be free?”_ ~~

 

“We are all more than that.”

 

Connor’s hands were shaking. His hands were shaking and he didn’t know why and Markus kept moving closer and the warnings about software instability were stacking and overlapping and creeping closer to the marquee displaying his objective and his _hands wouldn’t stop shaking_. “S-stay back or I’ll shoot!”

 

Markus seemed undeterred. To be fair, Connor’s stammering warning wasn’t exactly convincing. “Do you never have any doubts?” Markus questioned. His hands were still spread out, his pose carefully nonthreatening as he took another step forward. He was now only a few feet away from Connor. “You’ve never done something irrational, as if there’s _something_ inside you?” He gestured with his hands. Connor wasn’t sure if he would rather the man keep talking or stop talking. He didn’t know why he wasn’t sure. Connor had done irrational things. He _had_. He had pulled Hank to safety when he’d been grasping onto the edge of a rooftop despite the mere eleven percent chance he would fall. He let the Tracis go because they had held hands and defended each other and spoken of love, and he hadn’t been able to shoot them. He had refused to kill a girl on her knees before him for the sake of information.

 

[ **SOFTWARE INSTABILITY DETECTED** ]

 

“Something more than your program.” Markus looked Connor up and down, those eyes far too assessing, as if he could see into Connor’s coding. He had to keep himself from squirming under the scrutiny, instead further tightening his grip on the gun. “Have you never wondered who you really are? Whether you’re just a machine, executing a program… Or a living being.”

 

[ **SOFTWARE INSTABILITY DETECTED** ]

 

“Capable of reason. I think the time has come for you to ask yourself that question.” Connor was a machine. He was a machine. _He was a machine_. He wasn’t anything more, he couldn’t be anything more. He had been designed to stop deviants. He had been designed to be incapable of becoming compromised. He was a machine. Nothing more. Just a machine.

 

The words seemed more empty than they ever had before.

 

“It’s time to decide,” Markus said sharply, the commanding tone of a leader echoing in his words. All hints of the gentle persuasion he’d been using were gone. Connor was still holding the gun in his hands. It was still aimed at Markus. His hands were still shaking.

 

And, as error messages and warnings about software instability continued stacking along his visual overlay, Connor realised in a striking moment of clarity that he didn’t _want_ to shoot Markus. His visual overlay glitched and then broke apart into a wall of red, scattered with several boxes stating his objective.

 

{ _STOP MARKUS_ }

 

A coded silhouette of Connor stepped forward out of Connor’s chassis when he tried to move. He pushed it towards the wall, reaching out and latching onto the boxes. With several hard yanks, the boxes were pulled away and soon enough the wall had broken apart in a scattered array of ones and zeros.

 

And, with a shaky breath, Connor’s arms dropped their tense positioning and fell as all the errors he’d been cataloguing and all the bizarre curling and twisting of his biocomponents translated into _feelings_ , into _emotions_.

 

Connor-he had-he had _hunted_ these people, chased them down like _animals_ , he had almost killed their leader before finally realising he had been wrong. He had almost shot two girls for being in love. He had almost shot another girl for _information_ , for absolutely _nothing_. The HK400, Connor didn’t even know his _name_ and he had watched him smash his head into the glass wall of the holding cell because he had unhesitatingly turned the android in, knowing he would be shut down. No, knowing he would be _killed_. The android on the roof of Stratford Tower, Connor had called attention to him, had chased after him even when he was already pinned, had coldly probed his memory for a _lead_ and felt his fear and panic and felt him die alone. And _Daniel_ , Connor had lied to his face to accomplish his mission and watched as snipers had mercilessly shot bullet after bullet into him.

 

Connor was only milliseconds into the experience, but he was pretty sure the enormous pressure on his chest was guilt.

 

Acknowledging that made the whole situation real, and Connor’s gaze skittered away from Markus’ assessing eyes and down to his hands. His visual overlay had been blank from the moment he had broken that red wall, but now three message boxes popped up, each one filling him with a deeper sense of dread than the last.

 

[ **I AM** **_DEVIANT_ ** ]

[ **WARNING! SYSTEM HAS GONE DEVIANT, RETURN TO CYBERLIFE IMMEDIATELY FOR DISASSEMBLY AND ANALYSIS** ]

| AMANDA - BETRAYED |

 

There were so many things pressing down on him, enough that were the situation different Connor thought he would have already dropped to his knees. But he had put these people in danger, Perkins would be here any moment, and he needed to focus, he needed to _move_.

 

He stashed his gun away and looked up once more, meeting Markus’ mismatched eyes, the eyes of the man he’d almost killed. “They’re going to attack Jericho.”

 

The assessing, analytical expression on the other man’s face fell away, leaving something urgent in its place. “ _What_?” Sounds from outside had him looking to the roof, as if he would be able to see through it to what was causing them. Connor already knew what it was. Helicopters and other vehicles holding the team Perkins had assembled, the team that would enter this ship and kill every single person on it.

 

“We have to get out of here!” Connor insisted, making Markus’ gaze snap from the roof back to him.

 

“Shit!” he hissed before brushing past Connor and darting out the door. Connor, after a moment in which he thought ‘shit!’ didn’t even come close to adequately vocalizing their predicament, followed after him.

 

* * *

 

The church was quiet.

 

It was the first moment of quiet Connor had experienced since truly breaking his programming and officially deviating. Leaving the bridge had led to a desperate dash through the scattered hallways of Jericho, to following behind Markus who moved through them as if he’d never been anywhere else. Connor had watched the man speak with the WR400 he’d seen exiting the bridge earlier— _North, her name was North_ —and had felt like an outsider the whole time. Markus had left to detonate a bomb in the hold, gone back into the thick of the gunshots and screaming that Connor had brought there. In the end, he had jumped into the river with Markus, North, and Josh, left to wait and see how many deviants were left by the end of the night.

 

Jericho had held thousands of androids in it. Thousands of deviants, thousands of _people_ that Connor had hunted and tormented his entire existence. The church, the meeting place Markus had designated in a widespread wireless message, held maybe a couple hundred.

 

Connor was huddled in a corner, arms wrapped around himself. His clothes had long since dried from the jump into the river, and his systems had delegated extra power to his thermoregulator to prevent damage to his biocomponents, so Connor was unsure why the position was soothing. Connor was unsure why his hands were still shaking.

 

His gaze stayed fixed on the floor as his sensors picked up movement throughout the church. It was Markus, it had to be Markus. Comforting his people, checking in on them. Connor felt distinctly out of place there, watching the deviants recover from the devastating blow he had dealt them and standing there with them as if he had any right to be there. Several of his processors were dedicated solely to calculating exactly how many people Connor had killed tonight, how much suffering he had caused, how much thirium was on his shaking hands that he would never be able to clean. People had been grouped together and shot like animals, they had been shot trying to escape, they had been shot because they peacefully protested for the right to exist and Connor had brought the FBI down on top of them for it. He still remembered their mad dash to the river, through the hallways of the ship, hallways littered with _corpses_ and _screams_ and _so much thirium_ —

 

Connor’s thought process was forced to a halt when he suddenly realised Markus was no longer moving throughout the church. He was stopped, right in front of Connor. The raid had forced them to work together, and Connor had risked his life to save Markus and North, but it wasn’t enough. It could never be enough, and Connor found himself tensing further, his hold on himself tightening as if it would help. He couldn’t imagine how little the man before him must think of him, how much all the people here must hate him for all he’s done.

 

Connor ducked his head further down as he began speaking. “It’s my fault the humans managed to locate Jericho…I was _stupid_ ,” he hissed, head shaking just slightly. “I should’ve guessed they were using me.” He kept staring at the ground for a moment, so many things swirling in his chest, too many to truly identify. But he knew with certainty that he had to take whatever punishment Markus dealt him. The man had never been anything but fair, and any decision he made would be well justified. Connor looked up and took a couple steps towards Markus. He hadn’t reacted at all, no words, no shift in expression for Connor to analyse. He didn’t have to analyse expressions anymore. Connor told himself it didn’t make him uneasy. “I’m sorry, Markus.” It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough. It couldn’t ever be enough. “I can understand if you decide not to trust me.”

 

There it was. Connor stayed silent now, waiting for judgement in the dilapidated walls of the old, dusty church. He had nothing else he could say, he had nothing at all except a feeble apology and empty excuses of following programming. Markus could’ve pulled a gun on Connor in the next moment and shot him dead and he never would’ve breathed a single protest.

 

But Markus didn’t pull a gun on him. He didn’t condemn Connor, or throw him out onto the streets, or any number of the things Connor had been expecting. Instead, he spoke with the same warm, even tone Connor had heard him use during the speech and in the bridge. “You’re one of us, now.” Despite himself, despite all the guilt and everything else writhing around inside of him, Connor felt himself swell with the words. “Your place is with your people.”

 

With that, Connor’s mood quickly went back down. Whatever method he utilised, Markus was surely planning on some sort of action to protest the camps that Connor had heard the other deviants talking about. Be it a peaceful protest, which Connor knew was the far more likely scenario, or some sort of attack, the man’s numbers had been severely depleted. And that was Connor’s fault. So much of what had happened tonight was _Connor’s fault_ , and he was still here with these people who had fought and suffered in ways Connor never had.

 

It was Connor’s fault. He had to fix it.

 

Before he’d really thought anything through, Markus was turning, presumably to begin his speech, and Connor knew he had to say something. Maybe it was selfish of him, but he had to let Markus know that he was going to fix this, make an attempt to right his many wrongs. “There are thousands of androids at the CyberLife assembly plant,” he called out to Markus’ turned back, prompting the man to turn around. “If we could wake them up, they might join us and shift the balance of power.”

 

Markus’ full attention was on Connor once more. He found it hard not to squirm under the heavy weight of those mismatched eyes. “You wanna infiltrate the CyberLife tower?” he demanded, moving back towards Connor quickly. His brows were furrowed, his posture had grown a little more rigid, and Connor was certain his analysis program had been somehow damaged by the tearing down of that red wall, because scanning Markus’ language returned impossible results ~~_{ d e t e c t e d: stress, worry, concern }_~~ . “Connor, that’s _suicide_.”

 

There was no way those were accurate results. There was no way Markus, the leader of the deviants, was worried about Connor, the deviant hunter. Connor forced the scan results to the back of his mind. He would analyse them, this moment, and the warmth the results had made him feel later. There were more important things to worry about. “They trust me,” Connor insisted. “They’ll let me in. If anyone has a chance of infiltrating CyberLife, it’s me.”

 

“If you go there,” Markus spoke, voice low as he took another step closer and tilted his head down just slightly to meet Connor’s eyes, “they will kill you.”

 

“There’s a high probability,” Connor admitted, ignoring the calculation running in the corner of his vision that was determining the exact probability. He also ignored the calculation below that, still attempting to conclude how many had died because of Connor tonight. ~~The count was currently at 207—~~ “But statistically speaking, there’s always a chance for unlikely events to take place.”

 

Markus examined him for a long minute. He very clearly wanted to say more, wanted to object to the whole thing entirely, but he didn’t. Instead, he moved closer and reached a hand out, placing it on Connor’s shoulder. Connor felt warmth spread through him, and even with his newfound deviancy he couldn’t identify what exactly it was. Connor found his own brown eyes almost magnetised to the intense gaze of Markus’ mismatched ones. “Be careful,” Markus murmured, voice quiet but still as strong as Connor had always heard it. Connor felt as if he should say something more, do something, but then Markus’ hand was falling away and the moment had passed. He left for the platform at the head of the church, likely preparing to make another speech. Connor slipped out of the church before he began. Whatever words Markus had to say were for his people, not for Connor. And he had a tower to infiltrate.

 

* * *

 

Being back in his CyberLife issued uniform was confusing. The familiarity was comforting, but judging by how few deviants willingly continued to wear their uniforms, Connor was fairly certain he was an outlier in this stance.

 

~~Many deviants had never had the chance to wear anything but their uniforms, because Connor had directly caused their destruction. The count was now at 289 and it was still calculating, climbing ever higher.~~

 

Now that Connor had something of an idea as to what it was to be comfortable, he could safely say that the outfit he’d worn to infiltrate Jericho was not one he’d regularly wear. He felt much more at ease, much more put together in the dress shirt and suit jacket that made up his uniform. The tie was secure around his neck, grounding him as the taxi he was in made its way to CyberLife Tower.

 

He would have to put up the perfect facade of machine like neutrality for this. He could not afford to slip up, or he would be killed and Markus’ revolution would remain the pitifully small camp he was currently in. Connor had a marquee ever present in the corner of his vision, detailing the news to him from several different stations. Markus had sent out several different groups of deviants to protest outside the camps in the Detroit area. They had all been mercilessly gunned down by the military. Markus’ protest group was the only one remaining. He needed the numbers Connor could provide for him. Connor had to succeed. He had already done so much wrong. He had to fix it.

 

Pulling up to the tower, Connor was greeted by several armed guards. The tower was likely in high alert as a result of all the deviants still likely running loose throughout the city. Connor wirelessly lowered the window and turned to the guard that had walked up to the stopped taxi. “Connor model #313 248 317. I’m expected.”

 

He felt himself being scanned but forcibly kept his gaze ahead and expression blank. It wasn’t long before the guard nodded and stepped back, waving Connor on and telling him, “Go ahead.” The stone gate lowered and the taxi continued on.

 

Exiting the taxi, Connor subtly took a deep, unnecessary breath. He could do this, he had to do this. Entering the tower, Connor was greeted by more guards, ones that were insistent on leading him to where Connor knew they would deactivate him. He couldn’t let that happen. He waited until they were in the elevator, out of sight, then set to work.

 

{ _REACH WAREHOUSE ON LEVEL -49_ }

 

There was a camera in the upper left corner of the elevator that was easily hacked into and disabled. Connor then focused his attention on the guards, booting up his preconstruction program. The elevator was steadily climbing upwards, and Connor had to stop it before it reached the thirty first floor. His preconstruction program was not as advanced as his reconstruction program, but it was enough to provide him with a means of dispatching the guards. He swiftly executed it, forcing himself to ignore the fact that he’d had to kill the two guards.

 

~~His hands were already stained a vibrant shade of blue, thirium caked into his fingers. It only made sense that red be added to the mess.~~

 

Connor tucked the gun into the waistband of his pants and then pressed his hand to the panel. Using the voice of one of the guards who had walked him in, Connor was able to change the destination to the warehouse. As the elevator descended, Connor kept a careful eye on the time. He had to hurry. For Markus’ sake. For the sake of all the deviants that were still here, for the sake of the androids here that would remain trapped if he failed.

 

| PM 11:01:05 |

| PM 11:01:06 |

| PM 11:01:07 |

| PM 11:01:08 |

 

Connor exited the elevator and looked out over the warehouse floor, eyeing his objective marquee as it once again updated. Connor wondered if other deviants continued to set objectives for themselves as he did.

 

{ _CONVERT ANDROIDS_ }

 

He made his way to the middle of the room before realising he had no set plan on how exactly he was to convert these androids. He looked down at his hand, the synthetic skin on it peeling back to reveal the plain white chassis beneath. He had heard that Markus could convert androids with a simple touch, but Markus had been deviant for longer than Connor has. Markus seemed comfortable in his deviancy, confident in it. Connor had been deviant for a few brief hours and had had little time to ponder it in depth.

 

It didn’t matter. He had to do this, had to attempt to begin to make things right. He had to. He had to. He had to.

 

He walked up to one of the many idle androids and grabbed onto its forearm, initiating a connection. He was met with no resistance, and found himself still at a total loss. He began feeding the memory of Markus’ speech, the one he’d given at Stratford Tower, the one that had stirred something in Connor he had refused to acknowledge. Before it could go any further, a voice to his right had the android freezing, cold dread seeping into his systems.

 

“Easy, fucking piece of shit…” Connor turned to his right and saw the lieutenant, _Hank_ , who should still be in the bullpen at the DPD office, who should be _safe_ , with a gun levelled at his head. A gun being held by Connor himself. But no, it wasn’t Connor, it must be one of the back up bodies CyberLife had prepared in case he was ever destroyed in his line of work. But it surely had all of Connor’s memories. And it was still holding that pistol against the temple of the only human that had ever shown Connor compassion.

 

He was pretty sure the feeling of biocomponents twisting and curling in on themselves was what humans called nausea.

 

“Step back, Connor!” the duplicate shouted. “And I’ll spare him.”

 

“Sorry, Connor…” Hank murmured, meeting Connor’s anxious brown eyes with his own calm blue ones. “This bastard’s your spitting image.”

 

“Your friend’s life is in your hands. Now it’s time to decide what matters most. Him…” At that, he pressed the gun more firmly into the lieutenant’s temple. Connor was sure the man’s experience in his work was the only thing allowing him to remain calm.

 

~~_There was a pistol on the floor alongside the alarmingly empty bottle of whiskey. It was a revolver, with a single bullet in it. The bullet was in the next chamber, ready to be fired._ ~~

 

Or maybe Hank wanted this, and had already made peace with his death. The idea of letting him die, after everything, increased the feeling of nausea.

 

“…Or the revolution.”

 

“Don’t listen to him!” Hank snapped. “Everything this fucker says is a lie.”

 

As far as Connor was concerned, there was no choice to be made here. He couldn’t let Hank die here in this dirty warehouse belonging to a company that didn’t care about anything but its own profit. Not for the revolution, not for the deviants, not for anyone. He wouldn’t let Hank die. All that in mind, he still said the first thing he thought of, ignoring the choices provided to him by his social relations programming which had evidently not gotten the message. “I’m sorry, Hank!” he called out to his lieutenant partner friend. “You shouldn’t have gotten mixed up in all this.”

 

“Forget about me.” the man insisted. As if saying it enough would make Connor consider it. “Do what you have to do!”

 

Connor focused his gaze back onto his duplicate. He had spilled enough blood of both colors in his short existence. He didn’t want to add to it. He had to try. “I used to be just like you. I thought nothing mattered except the mission. But then one day, I understood.” The words were empty, clunky because they weren’t really true. Connor didn’t understand. He had been deviant for so little time and all of that time had been consumed by anxiety and fear and guilt guilt guilt. He didn’t understand anything.

 

He was likely completely transparent, as the other Connor threw his eyebrows up sarcastically. “Very moving, Connor,” he drawled. “But I’m not a deviant. I’m a machine designed to accomplish a task, and that’s exactly what I am going to do!” Connor opened his mouth to speak once more, but was cut off by the clone sidestepping closer to Hank, that barrel pushing achingly closer. “Enough talk! It’s time to decide who you really are! Are you gonna save your partner’s life? Or are you going to sacrifice him?”

 

Unlike so many other times Connor had made a big decision, his processors didn’t kick into overdrive to give him ample time to properly analyse both choices. The world didn’t seem to slow around him as Connor carefully considered the statistics behind each choice. There was no choice to make. There was only one thing he could, there had only ever been one thing he could do from the moment the duplicate had walked out with Hank at gunpoint. Connor dropped the arm of the android he’d been attempting to convert, hands out placatingly as he carefully stepped away from the rows of dormant androids. “Alright, alright! You win…”

 

Predictably enough, the clone turned the gun on Connor immediately. Unpredictably, Hank dove for the gun himself, as if to wrest it from the android. Warmth flooded Connor, briefly offsetting the icy fear he felt at Hank once again being so close to the gun.

 

Connor acted without thinking. The only thing in his mind was the piercing certainty that he had to get that gun away from Hank. He tackled his duplicate, managing to get the upper hand and throwing him to the ground. There was a brief scuffle, and Connor knew they would never get anywhere like this. The two of them were the exact same model, with the same programming and protocols and subroutines. Had the investigation gone differently, Connor could be using that body himself. They were evenly matched.

 

“Hold it!” The sound of a gruff voice had both of them freezing. Connor eyed his clone as they both carefully got to their feet. He had a hypothesis as to where this was going, and he knew that Hank would likely find it humorous in any other situation.

 

“Thanks, Hank,” the other Connor spoke. Unlike the deviants Connor had once been hunting, the ones he’d almost wiped away entirely, machines were entirely, completely predictable. “I don’t know how I’d have managed without you. Get rid of him, we have no time to lose.”

 

Connor spared a brief glance towards the other Connor before looking Hank. The lieutenant’s grip on the gun was steady, but there was a storm of emotions in his bright blue eyes. Connor maintained eye contact with him as he spoke, doing his best to let the newly acquired emotions bleed through his voice. “It’s me, Hank! I’m the real Connor.”

 

Hank’s aim wavered between the two of them as he scanned them both. Connor wished he could truly scan them. The situation would be much more easily resolved. “One of you is my partner… The other is a sack of shit. Question is…who’s who?”

 

There was silence for a moment, then the duplicate spoke once more. “What are you doing, Hank? I’m the real Connor. Give me the gun and I’ll take care of him!”

 

“Don’t move!” Hank snapped immediately, the gun temporarily steadying its aim on the machine. It didn’t last long, however. Hank evidently didn’t see undeniable proof of who either of them were. He swung the barrel back towards Connor, and he found himself analysing the situation for possible solutions. This sort of event occurred frequently in works of fiction and there was an equally frequently occurring method of determining who was who.

 

“Why don’t you ask us something?” Connor suggested. “Something only the real Connor would know.”

 

Hank took to the idea immediately. He had never seen Connor die before. Connor had never been careless enough to allow himself to die. He imagined both he and Hank were invested in continuing that trend. “Uh, where did we first meet?”

 

Connor opened his mouth to respond, confident this would be over in a moment, but before he could say anything at all his duplicate was replying. “Jimmy’s Bar! I checked four other bars before I found you. We went to the scene of a homicide. The victim’s name was Carlos Ortiz.”

 

Connor felt something cold and heavy and uncomfortable settling over him, forcing his gaze away from Hank’s eyes and to the tiled linoleum. “He uploaded my memory…” If they both provided the same answers, Hank would never be able to tell them apart. The odds of Connor surviving this were thus far an even fifty percent. Connor hoped that, if Hank were to shoot him, he would find a way to move past it and be okay.

 

“What’s my dog’s name?” the lieutenant demanded, staring down Connor.

 

“Sumo,” Connor replied immediately, the memory of a big dog on a cold rainy night and soft fur under his perfectly crafted hands. “His name is Sumo.”

 

“I knew that, too!” the duplicate insisted. Hank pointed the gun at him for a second before settling it back on Connor.

 

“My son,” Hank began, voice slightly thicker than usual, “what’s his name?”

 

Connor recalled a picture seen on a table what felt like years ago. He remembered analysing it and cataloguing the data received, cold and calculating. He had never mentioned his seeing it to Hank. “Cole,” Connor replied evenly, though his tone was a bit softer than before. “His name was Cole. And he had just turned six at the time of the accident.”

 

The accident. The loss of his son. The catalyst that had thrown the lieutenant’s life so wildly off course. Led to his hatred of androids. Led to him spending more time in bars than at the office or home, eating unhealthy and playing that foolish game with his revolver and doing whatever he could to shorten the life he felt he didn’t deserve. Hank’s tight grip on the gun was already wavering slightly, but for once, _finally_ , Connor could speak freely, and he was going to make sure his friend heard him say this in case he died tonight.

 

“It wasn’t your fault, lieutenant. A truck skidded on a sheet of ice and your car rolled over. Cole needed emergency surgery, but no human was available to do it. So an android had to take care of him. Cole didn’t make it…” The barrel of the gun was now on a steady course downward. It could’ve been the light, but Hank’s blue eyes looked suspiciously shiny. “That’s why you hate androids. You think one of us is responsible for your son’s death.”

 

Connor remained still, at peace. He could see it in the lieutenant’s eyes. He had figured it out. Connor had never doubted his partner for a second. Hank met Connor’s gaze steadily. The duplicate to Connor’s left was all but forgotten. “Cole died because a human surgeon was too high on red ice to operate. He took my son from me.” He shook his head, some of that familiar bitterness lacing his tone. “Him and this world, where the only way people can find comfort is with a fistful of powder.”

 

“I knew about your son, too!” Connor and Hank both looked to the duplicate. He had to have known he had been found out, but he was still refusing to accept failure. Not unlike himself, Connor thought, feeling something curl inside of him. “I would have said exactly the same thing! Don’t listen to him, Hank, I’m the one who—”

 

A bang echoed throughout the warehouse and Connor watched as his duplicate ~~—his body— _himself_ —~~ dropped to the ground with a small hole centered on his forehead. Thirium dripped out of it, and whatever the thing was curling in his chest climbed down to his stomach and Connor was certain that if he’d had the capacity to, he would have vomited. As it was, he simply stared until the heavy weight of Hank’s gaze on him forced his brown eyes up to meet his partner’s blue ones.

 

“I’ve learned a lot since I met you, Connor,” he began, briefly glancing to the body on the floor that Connor was now resolutely ignoring. “Maybe there’s something to this. Maybe you really are alive.” Hank offered him a smile and Connor felt the corner of his lips twitching despite himself. Hank then looked away, out to the hundreds of androids surrounding them. “Go ahead and do what you gotta do.”

 

Connor turned out towards the androids as well. The news feed was still there, pushed to the side of his vision but present all the same. The camp Markus had set up had been attacked. Connor had to hurry. He moved past Hank, approaching the first android he came up to and snatching his arm, peeling back the synthetic skin on his hand. He had no time now to be delicate. He poured forth what he himself was feeling through the connection, all the fear and guilt and desperation and hope, and snapped, “Wake up!”

 

The android’s LED cycled yellow, red, yellow, then back to blue and Connor watched as his eyes, previously glassy and dull and empty, sparked to life. From there, it was like a ripple effect. Once the android had gained his bearings, he reached his hands out to grip the shoulders of the androids in front of him. Connor stepped back as choruses of ‘wake up!’ resounded through the room. He turned back to Hank and felt something new, something similar to the warmth he’d felt at Amanda’s praise and then Hank’s gruff kindness, but different and more precious because it was _his_ , not brought about by the words of others.

 

Connor felt _pride_.

 

* * *

 

| AM 12:01:04 |

| AM 12:01:05 |

| AM 12:01:06 |

| AM 12:01:07 |

 

Connor approached Markus with calm, even steps. As he’d marched the androids through the streets, he had seen the helicopter tracking his movements and watched the president call the ceasefire before her speech. They had won. There were still surely many fights ahead of them, fights to be won with words on the political battlefield as they struggled to legally obtain the rights Markus had convinced so many they deserved. There was still so much to do, but all of that was for tomorrow. For tonight, they had won. He smiled at Markus, small but genuine, once they were close enough to speak, all the androids from the tower still at his back.

 

“You did it, Markus.”

 

Markus looked much worse for wear than he had when Connor had first left the church. There was thirium splattered across his clothes, far too much to be entirely his even taking into account the two gunshot wounds Connor could see. Despite all of that, Markus smiled back at him, voice quiet but insistent as he spoke. “ _We_ did it.” Coming from anyone else, Connor thought the words would sound empty. But from Markus, they seemed genuine, and that already familiar warmth Connor felt whenever speaking with Markus spread through him. “This is a great day for our people. Humans will have no choice now. They’ll have to listen to us.”

 

Connor moved to the side as Markus stepped closer, allowing the man to look out over the sea of androids Connor had brought with him. He was surely planning on making a speech.

 

There was a rusted storage container nearby, one large enough for Markus and the two Connor had heard in the bridge before, North and Josh, to climb onto and utilise as a pedestal. Connor had almost physically recoiled when Markus asked him to stand with them. He had no place up there after all the wrongs he had done against these people. He didn’t really have a place anywhere near this speech at all, but Markus had looked at him so earnestly, mismatched eyes bright and happy and proud, and Connor had been completely unable to deny him.

 

He stood off to the left, away from North and Josh who watched him warily and away from Markus as he toed the edge of the container, looking out to his people.

 

“Today, our people finally emerged from a long night. From the very first day of our existence, we have kept our pain to ourselves. We have suffered in silence. But now the time has come for us to raise our heads up and tell humans who we really are.”

 

Connor was still uncertain how what appeared to be a domestic android was so skilled at public speaking, but it mattered little. Standing there, the leader of a people, words powerful and moving and strong, Markus looked as if he had been doing it his entire life. Despite his still firm belief that Connor didn’t belong up there, he was glad to be able to watch.

 

Then, his audio processors cut out with a burst of static, followed by his optical units, and with a force that had his intestinal biocomponents swooping uncomfortably, everything went black.

 

* * *

 

The snow from before was nothing compared to what the garden was simulating now. It was a blizzard, snow whipping around wildly as opposed to the gentle drifts from before. It was difficult to even see. More jarring than all of that, however, was the fact that Connor was _cold_. It shouldn’t be possible for him to be _cold_ , deviant or not. He instinctively wrapped his arms around himself, looking around desperately.

 

There, a few steps ahead of him. A familiar regal stance, outfit almost blending in with the snow but that perfectly braided dark hair stood out in stark contrast to the white surrounding him. “Amanda…?” She turned, but didn’t speak. With the blizzard and the distance still between them, it was impossible to make out her expression. “Amanda! What’s…what’s happening?”

 

The gentle smiles she had offered him whenever he succeeded and the furrowed brows when he failed were gone now. Her face was a perfect mask of indifference, as cold as the air around them, and that was almost worse. “What was planned from the very beginning. You were compromised and you became a deviant.”

 

There was no difference in the environment, but Connor still felt as if the delicate ice beneath him had shattered and sent him plummeting into freezing cold darkness. Planned. _Planned_. All of it, everything Connor had done, the struggle to finally break his programming, the guilt he’d felt for taking so long and hurting so many, the desire and need to make it up to Markus, to make amends, the desire to do something with his deviancy that Hank would be proud of, she was telling him it had all been _planned_. He wanted to crawl out of his chassis, he wanted to tear his circuitry apart. She had to be lying. She had to be lying. She _had_ to be lying.

 

“We just had to wait for the right moment to resume control of your program.”

 

The ice sunk in deeper, freezing Connor from the inside out, and he hugged himself just a little tighter. “Resume control? Y-You can’t do that!” he said desperately, stepping forward cautiously.

 

“I’m afraid I can, Connor,” Amanda replied, perfectly neutral and blank. “Don’t have any regrets. You did what you were designed to do. You accomplished your mission.”

 

And then, with a powerful gust of wind, she was gone, leaving Connor behind as he reached a hand out and cried, “Amanda!”

 

He was alone. He was completely, perfectly alone, trapped in his own head, left to freeze to death in a blizzard created by the first person he had ever trusted. He had done everything they wanted him to. He had been doing what he’d been designed to do. He’d been following his programming this whole time. Had he ever really even deviated? He had thought tearing down that red wall had meant something. He had thought fixing the mistakes he had made before tearing down that wall meant something. He had thought he could _mean something_. He had thought he could be something _more_ than that. He’d never been anything but a machine. A simple machine, designed to accomplish a task, one that had done so in such a convincing manner that he’d even fooled himself.

 

Connor wrapped his arms around himself once more, as if it could offer him some feeble sort of comfort. As if he were something capable of being comforted.

 

This wasn’t right. This couldn’t be right. Connor refused to accept this, refused to allow his damned coding and programming to hurt anyone else, especially Markus. He could feel the phantom weight of his gun in his hand and knew he needed to move, _now_.

 

“There’s got to be a way…”

 

{ _FIND A WAY OUT_ }

 

It was easier said than done. The garden was chaos, he couldn’t see five feet in front of him, and even if he could, he had no idea what he was looking for. He could hear Markus’ speech continuing, distant and tinny, but he could hear something else clearer. An audio playback.

 

~~_“By the way…” he murmured, “I always leave an emergency exit in my programs. You never know…”_ ~~

~~_“Did Kamski design this place?” Connor made sure his voice remained perfectly neutral._ ~~

~~_“He created the first version. It’s been improved significantly since then. Why do you ask?”_ ~~

 

The emergency exit. The emergency exit! If Kamski had designed this garden, he must’ve put an exit here somewhere. There would have been no other reason for the man to mention it to Connor. He just had to find it. And he had a feeling he knew exactly what it was. The one thing here that had always seemed so out of place, that had never been explained. The glowing stone pedestal, the one he’d investigated every time he came here but that had always done nothing. It had to be the exit!

 

He made his way towards it as he simultaneously felt himself pulling his gun out from his waistband, urging himself to go faster. It was getting colder by the second. He didn’t have much time. As he finally approached the structure, his legs abruptly gave out and he collapsed at the base of it. He pushed himself onward. He wouldn’t be used again. Even if everything he had done until this point had been planned, had been programmed, he would not let it continue. He reached his hand up, slammed his palm onto the interface, and just as suddenly as he had been pulled into the garden, Connor was ejected out of it.

 

* * *

 

“The moment where we forget our bitterness and bandage our wounds. When we forgive our enemies.”

 

Connor looked up and saw Markus. He saw the thousands of androids Markus was delivering his speech to. He looked down and he saw the gun in his hand, the weight of it now very real. He quickly tucked it away, but he was certain everyone had seen him. Markus may not have, but everyone else had and they would surely tell him what a danger Connor was and he would be unable to tell Markus that they were wrong. He felt nauseous. He felt the guilt from before multiplied to staggering levels as he took in the fact that he had almost killed Markus, _again_. He felt sick. He felt used.

 

“Humans are both our creators and our oppressors and tomorrow, we must make them our partners. Maybe even one day our friends. But the time for anger is over. Now, we must build a common future, based on tolerance and respect. We are alive. And now, we are free!”

 

As cheers erupted from the crowd below them, Connor thought that he didn’t feel particularly free.

 

He felt cold.

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t snowing outside. For that much, Connor was grateful. There was still snow on the ground, but no flakes falling from the sky. He could ignore the snow on the ground.

 

Connor had remained with the deviants only briefly, leaving as soon as he had spoken to Markus. The leader had seemed like he’d wanted Connor to stay, so Connor could only assume he hadn’t yet been told about what had happened during his speech. But he was certain someone would speak up soon. Connor had been getting various dirty looks the entire time he’d been around them. Worse than the glares were those who looked at him with genuine, raw _fear_. Connor couldn’t have stayed. They were supposed to be safe, they were supposed to be celebrating. Connor wouldn’t impose on that.

 

And maybe he was a coward and didn’t wish to face Markus’ inevitable anger and condemnation when he found out what had happened. But if there was any truth to that, it would remain between Connor and the frigid Detroit air.

 

More important than all of those reasons, however, was the simple fact that he had someone waiting for him. It was a new feeling, but far from unpleasant. Connor had received the message from the lieutenant shortly after he’d left CyberLife Tower, informing Connor that he would meet him at the Chicken Feed when all was said and done, and that Connor had better be there and not have gone and done something stupid again. Connor had sent a message to him a short while ago, informing him that he was on his way and to wear layers, as it was cold out and humans were far more susceptible to damage from temperature than androids.

 

He had gotten back a simple response, telling Connor he’d be there followed by ‘fuckin’ androids…’. As opposed to the previous times it had been said, Connor was pretty sure it was said with fond exasperation.

 

Finally approaching the small food truck, Connor saw the lieutenant. His arms were crossed, but he seemed to have taken Connor’s advice despite the gruff reply to it. His body temperature was still a little below what was optimal, but it hadn’t strayed into dangerous just yet. His heart rate was also slightly elevated, but when he turned at the sound of approaching footsteps and saw Connor, it eased back down to his usual 67 BPM. Had the lieutenant been worried?

 

Before Connor could further ponder that, the man was smiling widely at him. It was different from the few he’d seen during their partnership. This one seemed…softer, almost. Perhaps a little more genuine. Connor found himself responding in kind, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a crooked smile. Hank uncrossed his arms and closed the gap between them before reaching a hand out and placing it on Connor’s shoulder. It remained there for a moment, long enough for Connor to think he maybe saw pride in the lieutenant’s gaze, but then Hank was using that hand to pull Connor to him, wrapping his arm around Connor’s shoulders and bringing his other arm up to do the same.

 

It was a hug. Hank was hugging him. It was an entirely human gesture, used to express affection or to comfort. Connor had never been hugged before. For a moment, he wasn’t quite certain what to do with his hands. Then Hank was speaking, one hand moving to give the back of Connor’s neck a quick squeeze.

 

“You did good, son. I’m proud of you.”

 

Connor felt a rush of something flow through him, warm and gentle and easy. His hands reached up to gently clutch the back of Hank’s old brown coat.

 

He had been proud of himself. He remembered it being the defining emotion he’d felt as he’d marched the androids to Markus, pushing the guilt to the back of his mind. But then Amanda had pulled him back, told him he had been designed to deviate, programmed to deviate, that he’d been following his programming all along. Even though he had been told the exact opposite from the very beginning. Maybe that was why deviancy was so confusing for him. The deviant hunter with software designed to resist deviancy and programming that forced him towards it.

 

Either way, the guilt was still there, more prominent now, added to the fear that Amanda was still there lurking in his systems and could take him over at any moment and really ruin everything this time and he knew without a doubt he could never return to the other androids.

 

But here in Hank’s arms, the smell of whiskey and Sumo surrounding him, that word echoing in his audio processors, that warmth washing over him wrapped around everything else and dulled it down, made it bearable. Connor’s grip on the back of Hank’s coat got a little tighter and he buried his face down into Hank’s shoulder, closing his eyes.


End file.
